The following sections, if they exist, are offprint from Beacham's Guide to Literature for Young Adults: "About
the Author", "Overview", "Setting", "Literary Qualities", "Social Sensitivity", "Topics for Discussion", "Ideas
for Reports and Papers". (c)1994-2005, by Walton Beacham.

All other sections in this Literature Study Guide are owned and copyrighted by BookRags, Inc.

Page 1

CHAPTER I

WHY “THE LAKE OF THE SKY”?

Lake Tahoe is the largest lake at its altitude—­twenty-three
miles long by thirteen broad, 6225 feet above the
level of the sea—­with but one exception
in the world. Then, too, it closely resembles
the sky in its pure and perfect color. One often
experiences, on looking down upon it from one of its
many surrounding mountains, a feeling of surprise,
as if the sky and earth had somehow been reversed and
he was looking down upon the sky instead of the earth.

And, further, Lake Tahoe so exquisitely mirrors the
purity of the sky; its general atmosphere is so perfect,
that one feels it is peculiarly akin to the sky.

Mark Twain walked to Lake Tahoe in the early sixties,
from Carson City, carrying a couple of blankets and
an ax. He suggests that his readers will find
it advantageous to go on horseback. It was a hot
summer day, not calculated to make one of his temperament
susceptible to fine scenic impressions, yet this is
what he says:

We plodded on, two or three hours longer,
and at last the Lake burst upon us—­a
noble sheet of blue water lifted six thousand three
hundred feet above the level of the sea, and walled
in by a rim of snow-clad mountain peaks that towered
aloft full three thousand feet higher still.
It was a vast oval, and one would have to use
up eighty or a hundred good miles in traveling around
it. As it lay there with the shadows of the
mountains brilliantly photographed upon its still
surface I thought it must surely be the fairest
picture the whole earth affords!

And there you have it! Articulate or inarticulate,
something like this is what every one thinks when
he first sees Tahoe, and the oftener he sees it, and
the more he knows it the more grand and glorious it
becomes. It is immaterial that there are lakes
perched upon higher mountain shelves, and that one
or two of them, at equal or superior altitudes, are
larger in size. Tahoe ranks in the forefront both
for altitude and size, and in beauty and picturesqueness,
majesty and sublimity, there is no mountain body of
water on this earth that is its equal.

Why such superlatives in which world-travelers generally—­in
fact, invariably—­agree? There must
be some reason for it. Nay, there are many.
To thousands the chief charm of Lake Tahoe is in the
exquisite, rare, and astonishing colors of its waters.
They are an endless source of delight to all who see
them, no matter how insensible they may be, ordinarily,
to the effect of color. There is no shade of blue
or green that cannot here be found and the absolutely
clear and pellucid quality of the water enhances the
beauty and perfection of the tone.

One minister of San Francisco thus speaks of the coloring:

Page 2

When the day is calm there is a ring
around the Lake extending from a hundred yards
to a mile from the shore which is the most brilliant
green; within this ring there is another zone of the
deepest blue, and this gives place to royal purple
in the distance; and the color of the Lake changes
from day to day and from hour to hour. It
is never twice the same—­sometimes the blue
is lapis lazuli, then it is jade, then it is purple,
and when the breeze gently ruffles the surface
it is silvery-gray. The Lake has as many
moods as an April day or a lovely woman. But its
normal appearance is that of a floor of lapis lazuli
set with a ring of emerald.

The depth of the water, varying as it does from a
few feet to nearly or over 2000 feet, together with
the peculiarly variable bottom of the Lake, have much
to do with these color effects. The lake bottom
on a clear wind-quiet day can be clearly seen except
in the lowest depths. Here and there are patches
of fairly level area, covered either with rocky bowlders,
moss-covered rocks, or vari-colored sands. Then,
suddenly, the eye falls upon a ledge, on the yonder
side of which the water suddenly becomes deep blue.
That ledge may denote a submarine precipice, a hundred,
five hundred, a thousand or more feet deep, and the
changes caused by such sudden and awful depths are
beyond verbal description.

Many of the softer color-effects are produced by the
light colored sands that are washed down into the
shallower waters by the mountain streams. These
vary considerably, from almost white and cream, to
deep yellow, brown and red. Then the mosses that
grow on the massive bowlders, rounded, square and
irregular, of every conceivable size, that are strewn
over the lake bottom, together with the equally varied
rocks of the shore-line, some of them towering hundreds
of feet above the water—­these have their
share in the general enchantment and revelry of color.

Emerald Bay and Meek’s Bay are justly world-famed
for their triumphs of color glories, for here there
seem to be those peculiar combinations of varied objects,
and depths, from the shallowest to the deepest, with
the variations of colored sands and rocks on the bottom,
as well as queer-shaped and colored bowlders lying
on the vari-colored sands, that are not found elsewhere.
The waving of the water gives a mottled effect surpassing
the most delicate and richly-shaded marbles and onyxes.
Watered-silks of the most perfect manufacture are but
childish and puerile attempts at reproduction, and
finest Turkish shawls, Bokhara rugs or Arab sheiks’
dearest-prized Prayer Carpets are but glimmering suggestions
of what the Master Artist himself has here produced.

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There are not the glowing colors of sunrises and sunsets;
but they are equally sublime, awe-inspiring and enchanting.
There are Alpine-glows, and peach-blooms and opalescent
fires, gleams and subtle suggestions that thrill moment
by moment, and disappear as soon as seen, only to
be followed by equally beautiful, enchanting and surprising
effects, and with it all, is a mobility, a fluidity,
a rippling, flowing, waving, tossing series of effects
that belong only to enchanted water—­water
kissed into glory by the sun and moon, lured into softest
beauty by the glamour of the stars, and etheralized
by the quiet and subtle charms of the Milky Way, and
of the Suns, Comets and Meteors that the eye of man
has never gazed upon.

There is one especially color-blessed spot. It
is in Grecian Bay, between Rubicon Point and Emerald
Bay. Here the shore formation is wild and irregular,
with deep holes, majestic, grand and rugged rocks
and some trees and shrubbery. Near the center
of this is a deep hole, into which one of the mountain
streams runs over a light-colored sandy bottom where
the water is quite shallow. Around are vari-colored
trees and shrubs, and these objects and conditions
all combine to produce a mystic revelation of color
gradations and harmonies, from emerald green and jade
to the deepest amethystine or ultra-marine. When
the wind slightly stirs the surface and these dancing
ripples catch the sunbeams, one by one, in changeful
and irregular measure, the eyes are dazzled with iridescences
and living color-changes covering hundreds of acres,
thousands of them, as exquisite, glorious and dazzling
as revealed in the most perfect peacock’s tail-feathers,
or humming-bird’s throat. Over such spots
one sits in his boat spell-bound, color-entranced,
and the ears of his soul listen to color music as
thrilling, as enchanting as melodies by Foster and
Balfe, minuets by Mozart and Haydn, arias by Handel,
nocturnes and serenades by Chopin and Schumann, overtures
by Rossini, massive choruses and chorals by Handel,
Haydn and Mendelssohn, fugues by Bach, and concertos
by Beethoven.

The blue alone is enough to impress it forever upon
the observant mind. Its rich, deep, perfect splendor
is a constant surprise. One steps from his hotel,
not thinking of the Lake—­the blue of it
rises through the trees, over the rocks, everywhere,
with startling vividness. Surely never before
was so large and wonderful a lake of inky blue, sapphire
blue, ultra-marine, amethystine richness spread out
for man’s enjoyment. And while the summer
months show this in all its smooth placidity and quietude,
there seems to be a deeper blue, a richer shade take
possession of the waves in the fall, or when its smoothness
is rudely dispelled by the storms of winter and spring.

So much for the color!

Yet there are those who are devoted to Lake Tahoe
who seldom speak of the coloring of its waters.
Perhaps they are fascinated by its fishing. This
has become as world-famed as its colors. Thousands,
hundreds of thousands, of the most gamey and delicately-flavored
trout are caught here annually, both by experts and
amateurs. The Federal and State governments,
and private individuals yearly stock the main Lake
and the hundred and one smaller lakes of the region
with the finest species of trout obtainable, and the
results fully justify the labor and expense.

Page 4

To the mountain-lover the Tahoe region is an earthly
paradise. One summer I climbed over twenty peaks,
each over nine thousand feet high, and all gave me
glimpses of Tahoe. Some of them went up close
to 11,000 feet.

Are you an admirer of Alpine, nay, High Sierran,
trees? You will find all the well-known, and
several rare and entirely new species in this region.
This field alone could well occupy a student, or a
mere amateur tree-lover a whole summer in rambling,
climbing, collecting and studying.

And as for geology—­the Grand Canyon of
Arizona has afforded me nature reading material for
nearly three decades and I am delighted by reading
it yet. Still I am free to confess the uplift
of these high-sweeping Sierras, upon whose lofty summits

The
high-born, beautiful snow comes down,
Silent
and soft as the terrible feet
Of
Time on the mosses of ruins;

the great glacial cirques, with their stupendous
precipices from which the vast ice-sheets started,
which gouged, smoothed, planed and grooved millions
of acres of solid granite into lake-beds, polished
domes and canyon walls and carried along millions of
tons of rock debris to make scores of lateral and
terminal moraines; together with the evidences of
uplift, subsidence and volcanic outpouring of diorite
and other molten rocks, afford one as vast and enjoyable
a field for contemplation as any ordinary man can
find in the Grand Canyon.

But why compare them? There is no need to do
so. Each is supreme in its own right; different
yet compelling, unlike yet equally engaging.

Then there are the ineffable climate of summer, the
sunrises, the sunsets, the Indians, the flowers, the
sweet-singing birds, the rowing, in winter the snow-shoeing,
the camping-out, and, alas! I must say it—­the
hunting.

Why man will hunt save for food is beyond me.
I deem it that every living thing has as much right
to its life as I have to mine, but I find I am in
a large minority among a certain class that finds at
Lake Tahoe its hunting Mecca. Deer abound, and
grouse and quail are quite common, and in the summer
of 1913 I knew of four bears being shot.

Is it necessary to present further claims for Lake
Tahoe? Every new hour finds a new charm, every
new day calls for the louder praise, every added visit
only fastens the chains of allurement deeper.
For instance, this is the day of athletic maids, as
well as men. We find them everywhere. Very
well! Lake Tahoe is the physical culturist’s
heaven.

In any one of its score of camps he may sleep out
of doors, on the porch, out under the pines, by the
side of the Lake or in his tent or cottage with open
doors and windows. At sunrise, or later, in his
bathing suit, or when away from too close neighbors,
clothed, as dear old Walt Whitman puts it, “in
the natural and religious idea of nakedness,”
the cold waters of the Lake invite him to a healthful

Page 5

and invigorating plunge, with a stimulating and vivifying
swim. A swift rub down with a crash towel, a
rapid donning of rude walking togs and off, instanter,
for a mile climb up one of the trails, a scramble over
a rocky way to some hidden Sierran lake, some sheltered
tree nook, some elevated outlook point, and, after
feasting the eyes on the glories of incomparable and
soul-elevating scenes, he returns to camp, eats a
hearty breakfast, with a clear conscience, a vigorous
appetite aided by hunger sauce, guided by the normal
instincts of taste, all of which have been toned up
by the morning’s exercise—­what wonder
that such an one radiates Life and Vim, Energy and
Health, Joy and Content.

Do you know what the lure must be when a busy man,
an active man, an alert man, a man saturated with
the nervous spirit of American commercial life, sits
down in one of the seats overlooking the Lake, or
spreads out his full length upon the grass, or on the
beds of Sierran moss, which make a deliciously restful
cushion, and stays there! He does nothing; doesn’t
even look consciously at the blue waters of the Lake,
on the ineffable blue of the sky, or the rich green
of the trees or the glory of the flowers—­he
simply sits or sprawls or lies and, though the influence
is different, the effect is the same as that expressed
in the old hymn:

My
soul would ever stay,
In
such a frame as this,
And
sit and sing itself away,
To
everlasting bliss.

There’s the idea! Calm, rest, peace, bliss.
Those are what you get at Lake Tahoe. And with
them come renewed health, increased vigor, strengthened
courage, new power to go forth and seize the problems
of life, with a surer grasp, a more certain touch,
a more clearly and definitely assured end.

There are some peculiarities of Lake Tahoe that should
be noted, although they are of a very different character
from the foolish and sensational statements that used
to be made in the early days of its history among
white men. A serious advertising folder years
ago sagely informed the traveling public as follows:
“A strange phenomenon in connection with the
Truckee River is the fact that the Lake from which
it flows (Tahoe) has no inlet, so far as any one knows,
and the lake into which it flows (Pyramid Lake, Nevada),
has no outlet.”

[Illustration: MT. TALLAC IN STORM.
LAKE TAHOE, CAL.]

[Illustration: THE PICTURESQUE TRUCKER RIVER,
NEAR LAKE TAHOE]

How utterly absurd this is. Lake Tahoe has upward
of a hundred feeders, among which may be named Glenbrook,
the Upper Truckee, Fallen Leaf Creek, Eagle Creek,
Meek’s Creek, General Creek, McKinney Creek,
Madden Creek, Blackwood Creek, and Ward Creek, all
of these being constant streams, pouring many thousands
of inches of water daily into the Lake even at the
lowest flow, and in the snow-melting and rainy seasons
sending down their floods in great abundance.

Page 6

To many it is a singular fact that Lake Tahoe never
freezes over in winter. This is owing to its
great depth, possibly aided by the ruffling and consequent
disturbance of its surface by the strong northeasterly
winter winds. The vast body of water, with such
tremendous depth, maintains too high a temperature
to be affected by surface reductions in temperature.
Experiments show that the temperature in summer on
the surface is 68 degrees Fahr. At 100 feet 55
degrees; at 300 feet 46 degrees; at 1506 feet 39 degrees.

Twenty years ago the thermometer at Lake Tahoe registered
18 degrees F. below zero, and in 1910 it was
10 degrees F. below. Both these years Emerald
Bay froze over. Perhaps the reason for this is
found in the fact that the entrance to the bay is very
shallow, and that this meager depth is subject to
change in surface temperature, becoming warmer in
summer and colder in winter. This narrow ridge
once solidly frozen, the warmth of the larger body
of water would have no effect upon the now-confined
smaller body of Emerald Bay. Once a firm hold
taken by the ice, it would slowly spread its fingers
and aid in the reduction of the temperature beyond,
first producing slush-ice, and then the more solid
crystal ice, until the whole surface would be frozen
solid.

An explanation of the non-freezing of the main Lake
has been offered by several local “authorities”
as owing to the presence of a number of hot springs
either in the bed of the Lake or near enough to its
shores materially to affect its temperature.
But I know of few or no “facts” to justify
such an explanation.

When I first visited Lake Tahoe over thirty years
ago I was seriously and solemnly informed by several
(who evidently believed their own assertions) that,
owing to the great elevation of the Lake, the density
of the water, etc., etc., it was impossible
for any one to swim in Lake Tahoe. I was assured
that several who had tried had had narrow escapes
from drowning. While the utter absurdity of the
statements was self-evident I decided I would give
myself a practical demonstration. To be perfectly
safe I purchased a clothes-line, then, hiring a row-boat,
went as far away from shore as was desirable, undressed,
tied one end of the rope around the seat, the other
around my body, and—­jumped in. I did
not sink. Far from it. I was never more
stimulated to swim in my life. My ten or fifteen
feet dive took me into colder water than I had ever
experienced before and I felt as if suddenly, and
at one fell swoop, I were flayed alive. Gasping
for breath I made for the boat, climbed in, and in
the delicious glow that came with the reaction decided
that it was quite as important to feel of the temperature
of lake water before you leaped, as it was to render
yourself safe from sinking by anchoring yourself to
a clothesline.

Page 7

But I would not have my reader assume from the recital
of this experience that Lake Tahoe is always too cold
for swimming. Such is not the case. Indeed
in June, July, August and September the swimming is
delightful to those who enjoy “the cool, silver
shock of the plunge in a pool’s living water,”
that Browning’s Saul so vividly pictures
for us. Hundreds of people—­men, women
and children—­in these months indulge in
the daily luxury, especially in the coves and beaches
where the water is not too deep, and the sun’s
ardent rays woo them into comfortable warmth.

After a warm day’s tramp or ride over the trails,
too, there is nothing more delicious than a plunge
into one of the lakes. A short, crisp swim, a
vigorous rub down, and a resumption of the walk or
ride and one feels fit enough to conquer a
world.

It can be imagined, too, what a lively scene the Lake
presents in the height of the season, when, from the
scores of hotels, resorts, camps, private residences,
fishermen’s camps, etc.; fishing-boats,
row-boats, launches, motor-boats, and yachts ply to
and fro in every direction, unconsciously vying with
each other to attract the eye of the onlooker.
The pure blue of the Lake, with its emerald ring and
varying shades of color, added to by the iridescent
gleam that possesses the surface when it is slightly
rippled by a gentle breeze, contrasting with the active,
vivid, moving boats of differing sizes, splashed with
every conceivable color by the hats and costumes of
the occupants—­all these conspire to demand
the eye, to enchain the attention, to harmlessly hypnotize,
as it were, those who sit on the shore and look.

And when is added to this the spontaneous shouts and
shrieks of delight that the feminine “fishermen”
give when they are successful and make a catch, the
half-frenzied and altogether delighted announcements
thereof, the whole-hearted or the half-jealous, half-envious
return-congratulations, while now and then the large
steamer, Tahoe, or an elegant private yacht,
as the Tevis’s Consuelo, crosses the
scene, one may partially but never fully conceive
the joy and radiant happiness, the satisfaction and
content that Lake Tahoe inspires and produces.

Lake Tahoe covers about 190 square miles, and its
watershed is about 500 square miles. The boundary
line between Nevada and California strikes the Lake
on the northern border at the 120th meridian, and
a point at that spot is called the State Line Point.
The latitude parallel of this northern entrance is
39 deg. 15”. The boundary line goes due
south until about 38 deg. 58” and then strikes
off at an oblique angle to the southeast, making the
southern line close to Lakeside Park, a few miles
east of the 120th meridian.

CHAPTER II

FREMONT AND THE DISCOVERY OF LAKE TAHOE

Like so many other great discoveries that were to
have an important effect upon the lives of countless
numbers of people, the discovery of Lake Tahoe was
accidental. Nor did its finder comprehend the
vast influence it was to possess, not only upon the
residents of California and Nevada, but upon the travel-loving
and sight-seeing portion of the population of the
whole world.

Page 8

John C. Fremont, popularly acclaimed “the pathfinder,”
was its discoverer, on the 14th day of February, 1844.
In the journal of his 1843-44 expedition he thus records
the first sight of it:

Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended
to-day the highest peak to the right from which
we had a beautiful view of a mountain lake at
our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and so nearly
surrounded by mountains that we could not discover
an outlet.

It cannot be deemed out of place in these pages, owing
to the significance of the discovery by Fremont, to
give a brief account of the exploration and its purposes,
in the carrying out of which Tahoe was revealed to
the intrepid and distinguished explorer.

Fortunately for us, Fremont left a full story of his
experiences in the Nevada country, complete in detail,
and as fresh and vivid as if but written yesterday.
This account, with illuminating Introduction, and
explanatory notes by James U. Smith, from whose pioneer
father Smith Valley is named, was republished in the
Second Biennial Report of the Nevada Historical
Society, from which, with the kind permission
of the secretary, Professor Jeanne Elizabeth Wier,
the following extracts are made.

Fremont had already made his first exploration of
the Rocky Mountains and South Pass in the summer of
1842. It was in this expedition that, standing
on the highest peak of the Rockies, he looked down
into the vast area beyond, known as the Great Basin,
comprising with its mountain ranges the whole western
portion of the continent of North America. This
he determined to explore, and it was on this second
expedition that Lakes Pyramid and Tahoe, the Truckee
River, etc., were discovered.

Later, Fremont made his third western journey, that
in which he came into conflict with the Mexican officials
of California, became governor of California, and
was finally placed under arrest by General Kearny,
and taken back to Washington to be tried for mutiny.
The results of that unfortunate Kearny conflict are
well known.

At the official close of the dispute he made his fourth
expedition and finally his fifth, all of which are
fully treated in Smucker’s and Bigelow’s
Life of Fremont.

To return now to the second expedition. In the
words of Mr. Smith:

The object of the expedition was purely
for the purpose of exploring and otherwise getting
scientific information about the great territory
between the Missouri frontier and the Pacific
Ocean. Emigrants were making their way westward
to the new Oregon Territory, and hunters and trappers
had been visiting portions of that region.
Farther north the fur companies had their posts
and did a regular business with the trappers and
Indians. But little was known about the regions
further south, and especially the great territory
between the Rocky and Sierra Nevada Mountain chains,
and that little was freely adulterated with fiction.

Page 9

Great Salt Lake was supposed to be a
very strange and wonderful lake, the islands of
which were covered with woods and flowers, through
which roamed all kinds of game, and whose waters
were sucked down in a great awe-inspiring whirlpool
into an underground passage under the mountains
and valleys to the distant sea. Another myth,
or rather pair of myths, in which geographers
placed sufficient faith to give a place on the
maps of the time, was the great Buenaventura River,
and that semi-tropical Mary’s Lake, the
waters from which found their way through the
Sierra Nevadas to San Francisco Bay. Mary’s
Lake was supposed to be a body of water such as a
traveler dreams about, whose clear waters were
bordered by meadows ever green, a place on whose
shores he could pitch his tent and cast aside
all thought or care of the morrow. Fremont counted
on this lake as a place where he could recuperate
and make ready for a final dash eastward across
the unknown country to the Rocky Mountains and
thence home to the Mississippi River. Contrast
these anticipations with the hardships and fears
he encountered while groping his way through the
Black Rock Desert, north of Pyramid Lake.

But Fremont was a good leader followed
by courageous men, and disappointments did not
make weaklings of either him or his men.
His party, on leaving Missouri, consisted of thirty-nine
men—­Creoles, Canadian-Frenchmen, Americans,
a German or two, a free negro and two Indians.
Charles Preuss was Fremont’s assistant in
topography, and it is likely that he made his sketches,
several of which were published in the original report.
Another member of the party, and one who joined it
in the Rocky Mountains and is of special interest
to us, was Christopher Carson, commonly known
as “Kit” Carson. Fremont speaks
of him in very friendly and flattering terms.
At the time of the meeting with Carson, he says:
“I had here the satisfaction to meet our
good buffalo hunter of 1842, Christopher Carson,
whose services I considered myself fortunate to
secure again.” On another occasion, when
Carson had successfully performed a responsible
errand, he says: “Reaching St. Vrain’s
Fort ... we found ... my true and reliable friend,
Kit Carson.” Fremont left Kansas City, Mo.,
May 29, 1843.

His general route was along the old
“Oregon Trail,” then the new
“Oregon Trail,” but at many places his
route was different. He followed up the Kansas
River instead of the Platte. But he crossed
the Rocky Mountains over the South Pass, which
is that of the Union Pacific Railroad, and was
common to the Oregon Trail and the emigrant road to
California. During nearly the whole journey
to Oregon Fremont divided his party. One
part he placed in charge of Fitzpatrick.
This consisted of the carts with the bulk of the supplies
and about half of the men. The other part consisted
of a mounted party with packhorses and the howitzer.
Fremont, of course, took charge of the latter

Page 10

party, for, traveling light as it did, he was
able to make detours covering country he wished
to explore, always, however, using the other train
as a base of supplies. The course of the other
party was generally along the emigrant road to
Oregon.

After crossing the Rocky Mountains,
Fremont went south with his party to explore Great
Salt Lake. Thence he returned north again
to the emigrant road, which then followed in a general
way the Snake or Lewis River to the Columbia, with
the exception of the great bend in northeastern
Oregon which was traversed by a shorter route.
Along the bank of the Columbia the road followed
to the Mission Station at the Dalles, or great
narrows of the river. At this point many of the
emigrants transferred their baggage to barges and
floated with the current to their destination
on the Willamette River. Others continued
by land down the river. Fremont’s division
reached the Dalles November 4th. Fitzpatrick’s
train did not come in until the 21st. The
latter left his carts at the mouth of the Walla
Walla River according to Fremont’s orders; and,
after making pack-saddles, transferred what was
left of his baggage to the backs of his mules
for the trip down to the Dalles. In the meantime
Fremont, with Preuss and two of the other men,
had gone down to Fort Vancouver in canoes. This
was the headquarters of the Hudson Bay Company
for the West. Here supplies for the return
journey were obtained.

Having transported these supplies up
to the Dalles in barges propelled by Indians,
he was ready to take up the final preparation
for the homeward journey. It is best to let him
describe these preparations in his own words.
He says:

“The camp was now occupied in
making the necessary preparations for our homeward
journey, which, though homeward, contemplated
a new route, and a great circuit to the south and
southeast, and the exploration of the Great Basin
between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada.

“Three principal objects were
indicated, by report, or by maps, as being on
this route, the character or existence of which
I wished to ascertain, and which I assumed as landmarks,
or leading points, on the projected line of return.
The first of these points was the Tlamath Lake,
on the tableland between the head of Fall River
(this is now called by its French name, the Des
Chutes River), which comes to the Columbia, and the
Sacramento, which goes to the Bay of San Francisco,
and from which lake a river of the same name makes
its way westwardly direct to the ocean.

“This lake and river are often
called Klamet, but I have chosen to write the
name according to the Indian pronunciation.
The position of this lake, on the line of inland
communication between Oregon and California; its proximity
to the demarcation boundary of latitude 42 deg.; its
imputed double character of lake, or meadow, according

Page 11

to the season of the year; and the hostile and
warlike character attributed to the Indians about
it;—­all make it a desirable object
to visit and examine. From this lake our course
was intended to be about southeast, to a reported
lake called Mary’s, at some days’
journey in the Great Basin; and thence, still
on southeast, to the reputed Buenaventura River, which
has a place in so many maps, and countenanced the
belief of the existence of a great river flowing
from the Rocky Mountains to the Bay of San Francisco.
From the Buenaventura the next point was intended
to be in that section of the Rocky Mountains which
includes the heads of Arkansas River, and of the
opposite waters of the California Gulf; and thence
down the Arkansas to Bent’s Fort, and home.

“This was our projected line of
return—­a great part of it absolutely
new to geographical, botanical, and geological science—­and
the subject of reports in relation to lakes, rivers,
deserts, and savages, hardly above the condition of
mere wild animals, which inflamed desire to know
what this terra incognita really contained.
It was a serious enterprise, at the commencement
of winter, to undertake the traverse of such a
region, and with a party consisting only of twenty-five
persons, and they of many nations—­American,
French, German, Canadian, Indian, and colored—­and
most of them young, several being under twenty-one
years of age.

“All knew that a strange country
was to be explored, and dangers and hardships
to be encountered; but no one blenched at the
prospect. On the contrary, courage and confidence
animated the whole party. Cheerfulness, readiness,
subordination, prompt obedience, characterized
all; nor did any extremity or peril and privation,
to which we were afterward exposed, ever belie,
or derogate from, the fine spirit of this brave
and generous commencement.

“The course of the narrative will
show at what point, and for what reasons, we were
prevented from the complete execution of this
plan, after having made considerable progress upon
it, and how we were forced by desert plains and
mountain ranges, and deep snows, far to the south
and near to the Pacific Ocean, and along the western
base of the Sierra Nevada; where, indeed, a new
and ample field of exploration opened itself before
us.”

From these quotations it is evident that Fremont had
no idea of entering California at this time.
He was simply driven to it by circumstances over which
he had no control.

Leaving the Dalles, Fremont followed up the Des Chutes
River to its headwaters in southeastern Oregon, thence
he crossed over the divide to the waters of the Klamath,
which he followed southward to what is known as Klamath
Marsh. This he called “Klamath Lake.”

Now started the hunt for Mary’s Lake and the
San Buenaventura River. The party came down through
southeastern Oregon into Nevada, where they camped
on the night of December 26, in Coleman Valley, on
what is called Twelve-Mile Creek, and about eleven
miles from the present California line. It may
be noted here that at that time the parallel between
Nevada and California on the south and Oregon on the
north, was the southern boundary of the territory
of the United States. Fremont was, therefore,
about to cross into Mexican territory.

Page 12

He then progressed southward through what are now
Washoe, Humboldt, Churchill and Lyon counties, and
over the California line into Mono County, back again
into Douglas, and thence over the mountains south
of Lake Tahoe, but did not find Mary’s Lake,
nor the places upon which he relied to recruit his
animals and give rest to his party. He did, however,
find Pyramid Lake. This being the body of water
into which the Truckee River flows, and the Truckee
being the only outlet to Lake Tahoe, it is well that
this portion of the account be given in full.
Fremont and Carson were on ahead. The day was
January 10, 1843. Fremont writes:

Leaving a signal for the party to encamp,
we continued our way up the hollow, intending
to see what lay beyond the mountain. The
hollow was several miles long, forming a good pass
(some maps designate this pass as Fremont Pass,
others as San Emidio Canyon), the snow deepened
to about a foot as we neared the summit.
Beyond, a defile between the mountains descended rapidly
about two thousand feet; and, filling up all the lower
space, was a sheet of green water, some twenty
miles broad (Pyramid Lake). It broke upon
our eyes like the ocean. The neighboring
peaks rose high above us. One peak, on the eastern
side of the lake, rises nearly forty-four hundred
feet above the lake, and on the side (toward which
Fremont was looking) one peak rises 4925 feet
above the lake; and we ascended one of them to
obtain a better view.

The waves were curling in the breeze,
and their dark-green color showed it to be a body
of deep water. For a long time we sat enjoying
the view, for we had become fatigued with mountains,
and the free expanse of moving waves was very grateful.
It was set like a gem in the mountains, which,
from our position, seemed to inclose it almost
entirely. At the western end it communicated
with the line of basins we had left a few days since;
and on the opposite side it swept a ridge of snowy
mountains, the foot of the great Sierra. Its
position at first inclined us to believe it Mary’s
Lake, but the rugged mountains were so entirely
discordant with descriptions of its low rushy shores
and open country, that we concluded it some unknown
body of water, which it afterwards proved to be.

On January 13th we followed again a
broad Indian trail along the shore of the lake
to the southward. For a short space we had
room enough in the bottom; but, after traveling a
short distance, the water swept the foot of the
precipitous mountains, the peaks of which are
about 3000 feet above the lake. The trail
wound around the base of these precipices, against
which the water dashed below, by a way nearly impracticable
for the howitzer. During a greater part of the
morning the lake was nearly hid by a snowstorm,
and the waves broke on the narrow beach in a long
line of foaming surf, five or six feet high.
The day was unpleasantly cold, the wind driving

Page 13

the snow sharp against our faces; and, having advanced
only about twelve miles, we encamped in a bottom
formed by a ravine, covered with good grass, which
was fresh and green.

We did not get the howitzer into camp,
but were obliged to leave it on the rocks until
morning. The next morning the snow was rapidly
melting under a warm sun. Part of the morning
was occupied in bringing up the gun; and, making
only nine miles, we encamped on the shore, opposite
a very remarkable rock in the lake, which had
attracted our attention for many miles. It
rose, according to our estimate, 600 feet above the
water, and, from the point we viewed it, presented
a pretty exact outline of the great pyramid of
Cheops. Like other rocks, along the shore,
it seemed to be incrusted with calcareous cement.
This striking feature suggested a name for the lake,
and I called it Pyramid Lake; and though it may
be deemed by some a fanciful resemblance, I can
undertake to say that the future traveler will
find much more striking resemblance between this
rock and the pyramids of Egypt than there is between
them and the object from which they take their
name....

The elevation of this lake above the
sea is 4890 feet, being nearly 700 feet higher
than the Great Salt Lake, from which it lies nearly
west, and distant about eight degrees of longitude.
The position and elevation of this lake make it an
object of geographical interest. It is the
nearest lake to the western rim, as the Great
Salt Lake is to the eastern rim of the Great Basin
which lies between the base of the Rocky Mountains
and the Sierra Nevada—­and the extent and
character of which, its whole circumference and
contents, it is so desirable to know.

The Indians then directed him to a river of which
he says:

Groves of large cottonwood, which we
could see at the mouth, indicated that it was
a stream of considerable size, and, at all events,
we had the pleasure to know that now we were in a
country where human beings could live. Reaching
the groves, we found the inlet of a large fresh-water
stream (the Truckee River), and all at once were
satisfied that it was neither Mary’s River
nor the waters of the Sacramento, but that we had
discovered a large interior lake, which the Indians
informed us had no outlet. It is about 35
miles long, and, by the mark of the water-line
along the shore, the spring level is about 12
feet above its present waters.

In the meantime, such a salmon-trout
feast as is seldom seen was going on in our camp,
and every variety of manner in which fish could
be prepared—­boiled, fried and roasted in
the ashes—­was put into requisition;
and every few minutes an Indian would be seen
running off to spear a fresh one. Whether these
Indians had seen whites before, we could not be certain;
but they were evidently in communication with others
who had, as one of them had some brass buttons,
and we noticed several other articles of civilized

Page 14

manufacture. We could obtain from them but
little information about the country. They made
on the ground a drawing of the river, which they
represented as issuing from another lake in the
mountains three or four days distant, in a direction
a little west of south; beyond which, they drew
a mountain; and further still, two rivers; on one of
which they told us that people like ourselves traveled.

They still wandered to the south, passing near where
Dayton, Nevada, now is, and reaching Bridgeport and
Mono and Twin Lakes. Here they struck north and
west again and soon had to leave the howitzer.
Passing through Antelope Valley they reached Markleeville
in deep snow, passed Graver’s Springs, entered
Faith and Hope Valleys, and here it was Fremont gained
his view of Lake Tahoe. It was February 14, 1844.
He says:

The dividing ridge of the Sierra is
in sight from this encampment. Accompanied
by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the highest peak
to the right [probably Stevens Peak, 10,100 feet above
sea-level], from which we had a beautiful view of a
mountain lake at our feet, about fifteen miles
in length, and so entirely surrounded by mountains
that we could not discover an outlet [Lake Tahoe].
We had taken with us a glass, but though we enjoyed
an extended view, the valley was half hidden in
mist, as when we had seen it before. Snow could
be distinguished on the higher parts of the coast
mountains, eastward, as far as the eye could extend.
It ranged over a terrible mass of broken snowy
mountains, fading off blue in the distance.
The rock composing the summit consists of very coarse,
dark, volcanic conglomerate; the lower parts appeared
to be of a slaty structure. The highest trees
were a few scattered cedars and aspens. From
the immediate foot of the peak, we were two hours
reaching the summit, and one hour and a quarter
in descending. The day had been very bright, still,
and clear, and spring seemed to be advancing rapidly.
While the sun is in the sky the snow melts rapidly,
and gushing springs cover the face of the mountain
in all exposed places, but their surface freezes
instantly with the disappearance of the sun.

I obtained to-night some observations,
and the result from these, and others made during
our stay, gives for the latitude 38 deg. 41’
57”, longitude 120 deg. 25’ 57” [the
correct longitude for this place is 119 deg. 58’],
and rate of the chronometer 25.82.

The next night they encamped on the headwaters of
a little creek, where at last the water found its
way to the Pacific. The following morning they
started early.

Page 15

The creek acquired a regular breadth
of about 20 feet, and we soon began to hear the
rushing of water below the icy surface, over which
we traveled to avoid the snow; a few miles below we
broke through, where the water was several feet deep,
and halted to make a fire and dry our clothes.
We continued a few miles further, walking being
very laborious without snowshoes.

I was now perfectly satisfied that we
had struck the stream on which Mr. Sutter lived;
and, turning about, made a hard push, and reached
the camp at dark. Here we had the pleasure to
find all the remaining animals, 57 in number,
safely arrived at the grassy hill near camp; and
here, also, we were agreeably surprised with the
sight of an abundance of salt. Some of the horse-guard
had gone to a neighboring hut for pine nuts, and
discovered unexpectedly a large cake of very white,
fine grained salt, which the Indians told them
they had brought from the other side of the mountain;
they used it to eat with their pine nuts, and
readily sold it for goods.

On the 19th, the people were occupied
in making a road and bringing up the baggage;
and, on the afternoon of the next day, February
20, we encamped, with the animals and all the materiel
of the camp, on the summit of the pass [Carson Pass,
at the head of Hope Valley] in the dividing ridge,
1000 miles by our traveled road from the Dalles
to the Columbia.

The people, who had not yet
been to this point, climbed the
neighboring peak to enjoy
a look at the valley.

The temperature of boiling
water gave for the elevation of the
encampment, 9338 feet above
the sea.

This was 2000 feet higher than the South
Pass in the Rocky Mountains, and several peaks
in view rose several thousand feet still higher.
Thus, at the extremity of the continent, and near
the coast, the phenomenon was seen of a range of
mountains still higher than the great Rocky Mountains
themselves. This extraordinary fact accounts
for the Great Basin, and shows that there must
be a system of small lakes and rivers scattered
over a flat country, and which the extended and
lofty range of the Sierra Nevada prevents from escaping
to the Pacific Ocean. Latitude 38 deg. 44’,
longitude 120 deg. 28’. [This latitude is
that of Stevens Peak, the highest in that ridge,
10,100 feet, and of course he did not go over
the top of that peak, when Carson Pass, 1600 feet
lower, was in plain view; this pass is the lowest
one visible from the route on which they had come;
another pass much lower leads out from the other
or northern end of Hope Valley, but was not visible
from their trail. The summit of Carson Pass is
approximately latitude 38 deg. 41’ 50”;
longitude 119 deg. 59’. Fremont’s
longitude readings are unreliable, owing to error
in his chronometer.]

From this point on, following the south fork of the
American River, sixteen days from the summit landed
Fremont and his party at Sutler’s Fort, March
8. Of their arrival Fremont says:

Page 16

A more forlorn and pitiable sight than
they presented cannot well be imagined. They
were all on foot, each man weak and emaciated,
leading a horse or mule as weak and emaciated as
themselves. They had experienced great difficulty
in descending the mountains, made slippery by
rains and melting snows, and many horses fell
over precipices and were killed, and with some
were lost the packs they carried. Among these
was a mule with the plants which we had collected
since leaving Fort Hall, along a line of 2000
miles of travel. Out of 67 horses and mules,
with which we commenced crossing the Sierra, only
33 reached the valley of the Sacramento, and they
only in a condition to be led along.

In concluding this chapter it should not be overlooked
that on his maps of the expedition of 1843-44 Fremont
called the mountain lake he had discovered “Lake
Bonpland.” He says in a private letter:
“I gave to the basin river its name of Humboldt
and to the mountain lake the name of his companion
traveler, Bonpland, and so put it in the map of that
expedition.”

[Illustration: A Washoe Indian Campoodie,
Near Lakeside Park, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Washoe indians at Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: The ‘Signal Code’
Design]

Amade Bonpland was born at Rochelle, France, in 1773.
He was educated as a physician but became a noted
botanist. He accompanied Humboldt to America,
and subsequently became a joint author with the great
traveler and scientist of several valuable works on
the botany, natural-history, etc., of the New
World. He was detained as a prisoner for nearly
ten years by Dictator Francia of Paraguay to prevent
him from, or to punish him for, attempting to cultivate
the mate, or Paraguay tea, in that country. He
died in 1858 at Montevideo, the Capital of Uruguay,
in South America.

His name as applied to Lake Tahoe is practically unknown,
save to the curious investigator or historian.
Other names given by Fremont have “stuck”
to this day, amongst them being Humboldt, Walker, Owen,
Kern and Carson rivers, Pyramid and Walker lakes,
etc.

The vicissitudes of the naming of Lake Tahoe is of
sufficient interest to occupy a whole chapter, to
which the reader is referred.

CHAPTER III

THE INDIANS OF LAKE TAHOE

Since Lake Tahoe was the natural habitat of one of
the most deliciously edible fishes found in the world,
the Indians of the region were bound, very early in
their history here, to settle upon its shores.
These were the Paiutis and the Washoes. The former,
however, ranging further east in Nevada, were always
regarded as interlopers by the latter if they came
too near to the Lake, and there are legends current
of several great struggles in which many lives were
lost, where the Washoes battled with the Paiutis to
keep them from this favored locality.

Page 17

Prior to the coming of the emigrant bands in the early
’forties of the last century, the only white
men the Indians ever saw were occasional trappers
who wandered into the new and strange land. Then,
the beautiful Indian name, soft and limpid as an Indian
maiden’s eyes, was Wasiu—­not
the harsh, Anglicized, Washoe. Their range
seemed to be from Washoe and Carson valleys on the
east in winter, up to Tahoe and over the Sierras for
fishing and hunting in the summer. They never
ventured far westward, as the Monos and other mountain
tribes claimed the mountain regions for their acorns
and the game (deer, etc.), which abounded there.

While in the early days of the settlements of whites
upon their lands the Washoes now and again rose in
protest, and a few lives were lost, in the main they
have been a peaceable and inoffensive tribe. The
Paiutis were far more independent and warlike, placing
their yoke upon the weaker tribe. Indeed, when
I first talked with the older Washoes and Paiutis
thirty years ago they were full of stories of big wars
between themselves. They showed me rocks near
to the present town of Verdi, on the line of the Southern
Pacific, on which their ancestors had made certain
inscriptions which they interpreted as warnings to
the Paiutis not to dare trespass beyond that sign,
and the Paiutis had similar notices inscribed upon
bowlders near to their boundary lines. As a result
of one of their fights the Washoes were forbidden the
use of horses, and it is only since the whites have
exercised control that the weaker tribe has dared
to disregard this prohibition.

To-day they number in the region of six hundred men,
women and children. On account of their nomadic
habits it is impossible to secure a complete census.

In appearance they are heavy and fat, though now and
again a man of fine, muscular form and good height
is found. The women have broad, shapeless figures
and clumsy, deliberate movements. The older they
get the more repulsive and filthy they become.
While young some of the women have pleasing, intelligent
and alert faces, while children of both sexes are
attractive and interesting. But with them as with
all aboriginal people who have absorbed the vices
and none of the virtues of the whites, the Washoes
are fast losing power, vigor and strength by disease
and dissipation. The smoke of the campoodie
fire is also ruinous to their eyes and ophthalmia
is prevalent among them. It is no uncommon thing
to see a man or woman entirely blind.

The old-time methods of clothing have entirely disappeared.
When I first knew them it was not unusual to find
an old Indian wrapped in a blanket made of twisted
rabbit-skins, but I doubt if one could be found to-day.
The white man’s overalls, blouse and ordinary
coat and vest for the men, with calico in variegated
colors for the women, seem to have completely taken
the place of their own primitive dress. A pair
of moccasins, however, now and again, may be found
in use at a dance or on some special occasion.

Page 18

They still paint and tattoo their faces, hands and
wrists, in lines, triangles and circles. On their
bodies also stripes of irregular design and varying
colors are often used, all having a symbolic meaning
originally, now lost, however, at least to all the
younger members of the tribe. Painting the face
has a definite and useful purpose. It softens
the skin and prevents the frosts of winter from cracking
it.

Their dwellings are of the rudest character, mere
brush shacks in summer, and in winter, nondescript
structures of brush, old boards, railroad ties, tin
cans, barrel-staves, old carpet, canvas, anything
that will sustain a roof and keep out wind, rain and
as much of the cold as possible. Their name for
this structure is campoodie. Of course
there is no pretense of sanitation, cleanliness or
domestic privacy. The whole family herds together
around the smoking fire, thus early beginning the
destruction of their eyesight by the never-ceasing
and irritating smoke.

Their native food consists of fish, the products of
the chase, which include deer, antelope, an occasional
bear, rabbits, squirrels and even coyotes, mountain-lions
and wildcats, with acorns, manzanita berries, currants
and the seeds of wild peaches and the various grasses,
together with a large assortment of roots. While
they gather and eat pine nuts, they generally save
them for purposes of barter or sale. Their carrying
baskets contain a good wheelbarrow load and are called
mo-ke-wit.

They are great gamblers, their chief game being a
guessing contest, where sides are chosen, the fortune
of each side depending on its ability to guess who
holds a certain decorated stick. Men and women
alike play the game, though generally the sexes separate
and play by themselves. Quiet chanting or singing
often accompanies the game. All alike smoke the
cigarette.

Of their religious beliefs little can be said.
The fact is their simple nature-worship and the superstitions
connected with it have been abolished, practically,
by their association with the whites, and we have
given them nothing as substitutes. As Mrs. W.W.
Price says in a letter to me:

In several talks with Susan and Jackson,
after the death of Susan’s sister, I endeavored
to find out some of their religious beliefs.
But these talks were not very satisfactory. Neither
one knew what he did believe. Their old Indian
religion—­whatever it may have been—­seemed
to have passed, and the religion of the white
man had not taken very deep hold.

While Susan felt that she must cut her
hair short and burn all her sister’s things

Page 19

and do just so much wailing each day to drive
off the evil spirits (on the occasion of her sister’s
death), she took most comfort in doing as
“white woman” do—­putting
on a black dress.

The most interesting result of my talks
with Jackson was the following ghost story, which
he told me to show that Indians sometimes did
live again after death. His grandmother had told
him the story and had heard it herself from the
man to whom it had happened. It is as follows:
“An Indian woman died, leaving a little
child and her husband. The latter spent the accustomed
four days and nights watching at her grave without
food or drink. On the fourth night the grave
suddenly opened and the woman stepped out before
him. ‘Give me my child,’ said she.
The man said not a word but went quickly and brought
the little child. The woman did not speak
but took the child and suckled it. Then holding
it close in her arms, she began to walk slowly
away. The man followed her, but he did not speak.
On, on they went, through forest and meadow, up
hill and down dale.

“By and by the man made a movement
as though he would take hold of her to stop her.
But the woman warded him off with a wave of her
hand. ‘Touch me not,’ she said.
’If you touch me, you must die too!’
She stood and suckled the child once more, then
laid him gently in her husband’s arms. ‘Go
home,’ she said, and faded from his sight.

“Home he went with the
child, full of awe and fear.

“A few days afterwards
the child died, though there was
nothing the matter with it.
The man, however, lived to be very
old.”

Jackson was not sure whether
he believed this story or not.
But his manner of telling
it indicated that it was very real
to him.

Now and again near Tallac one may see one of the dances
of the Washoes. Though war is past with them
they still occasionally indulge in their War Dance
and its consequent Scalp Dance. There are not
more than ten or a dozen of the old warriors still
living who actually engaged in warfare in the old
days, and these are too old and feeble to dance.
But as the young men sing and throw their arms and
limbs about in the growing frenzy of the arousing
dance, and the tom-tom throbs its stimulating beat
through the air, these old men’s eyes flash,
and their quavering voices become steady and strong
in the excitement, and they live in the conflicts
of the past.

Another of the dances that is still kept up is the
Puberty Dance. Many white people have seen this,
but not having any clew to its significance, it seemed
absurd and frivolous. When a girl enters the
door of young womanhood the Washoe idea is to make
this an occasion for developing wiriness, strength,
and vigor. Contrary to the method of the white
race, she is made, for four consecutive days, to exert
herself to the utmost. She must walk and climb
mountains, ride and run, and when night comes on the

Page 20

fourth day, she and her mother, and as many of the
tribe as are available, begin to dance at sunset and
keep it up all night. The girl herself is designated
by a long and slim pole which she carries in her hand,
and which towers above her head. By her side
stands her mother. The leader of the dance begins
a song, a simple, rhythmic, weird chant, the words
of which are archaic and have no significance to the
Indians of to-day, but merely give syllables to hang
the tune upon. As the leader sings he slowly moves
his legs in a kind of oblique walk. The young
men take his hand and follow. The women unite,
and a rude circle is made, generally, however, open,
at the place where the dance-leader stands. After
once or twice around, the leader moves first one foot,
then the other, sideways, at the same time jogging
his body up and down in fairly rapid movement, in
perfect time to his song. In a few moments all
are bobbing up and down, with the onward side-shuffling
movement, and the real dance is on. This continues
according to the will of the leader. When his
voice gives a sudden drawling drop that dance ends.
There are a few minutes for relaxation and breath,
and then he lines out a new song, with new syllables,
and a new dance begins. This continues practically
all night, the dance-leader showing his memory power
or his composing genius by the number of new songs
he introduces. I have counted as many as thirty
to forty different tunes on one occasion.

Just at sunrise the mother of the girl fetches one
or two buckets of cold water, while the maiden undresses.
The water is suddenly dashed over her “to make
her vigorous and strong,” and the dance comes
to an end.

This rude and rough treatment, in the early days,
was made to have all the potency and sanctity of a
religious rite. The reason for it was clear.
The Washoes were surrounded by people with whom they
were often at war. Indian warfare takes no cognizance
of sex or its special disabilities. In order
that their women should not be regarded as hors
de combat, or enfeebled, at such times and thus
hamper the movement of the tribe in case a sudden
flight was needed, the shamans or medicine men taught
that strength, activity and vigor were just as possible
at that time as any other. “Those Above”
commanded that it be so. Hence all the sanctity
and seriousness of a religious rite was thrown around
these dances, and though the Indians of to-day have
lost many of their old customs, this is one that is
still rigorously observed.

Another singular custom that still obtains is where,
after the birth of a first child, the husband
and father is required to fast and work arduously
from the day of the birth until the child’s
navel shrivels off. This is to make him strong
and vigorous, so that he may be able to give as much
strength to his second and later children as he did
to the first.

As soon as a girl matures she is marriageable.
Several and simple are the ways in which a Washoe
youth shows his preference and desire for marriage.
Equally simple are the girl’s signs of acceptance
or rejection. There is no ceremony as the White
Race understands that term, though to the Indian there
is everything that is necessary to make the rite as
binding as it is to his white brother and sister.

Page 21

Though polygamy has always been practiced, the custom
to-day limits the wives to two, and only a few men
have more than one wife. Where plural wives are
taken they are generally sisters. There is little
intermarriage among other tribes. Though it occasionally
occurs it is fiercely frowned upon and all parties
are made to feel uncomfortable.

Prostitution with the whites and Chinese is not uncommon,
and children born of such relationship have just as
good a standing as those born in wedlock. The
Indian sees no sense in punishing an innocent child
for what it is in no way responsible for. He frankly
argues that only a silly fool of a white man or woman
would do so cruel and idiotic a thing.

Children are invariably welcomed and made much of
at birth, though it is seldom a Washoe woman has more
than four or five babies. They are always nursed
by the mother, and not often weaned until they are
four or five years old.

In the early days the labor of the sexes was clearly
defined. The man was the hunter and the warrior,
the guardian of the family. The woman was the
gatherer of the seeds, the preparer of the food, the
care-taker of the children. To-day there is not
much difference in the division of labor. The
breaking down of all the old customs by contact with
the whites has made men and women alike indifferent
to what work they do so that the family larder and
purse are replenished thereby.

In the early days the Washoes were expert hunters
of bear and deer. They used to cross over into
the mountains of California for this purpose, and
the women would accompany them. A camp would be
established just below the snow line, and while the
men and youths went out hunting the women gathered
acorns. My informant, an old Indian, was a lad
of eighteen at the time of which he spoke. In
effect he said: “One day while I was out
I found the tracks of a bear which I followed to a
cave. Then I went to camp. But we Indians
are not like you white men. You would have rushed
in and shouted to everybody, ‘I’ve found
a bear’s track!’ Instead I waited until
night and when all the squaws had gone to bed I leisurely
told the men who were chatting around the camp fire.
They wished to know if I knew where the cave was,
and of course I assured them I could go directly to
it. The next morning early my uncle quietly aroused
me, saying, ’Let’s go and get that bear.’
I was scared but had to go. When we arrived he
took some pieces of pitch-pine from his pocket, and
lighting them, gave me one, and told me to stand at
the mouth of the cave ready to shoot the bear, while
he went in and drove it out. I didn’t like
the idea, but I daren’t confess my cowardice,
for he at once went in. In a few moments I heard
terrific growlings and roarings and then the bear rushed
out. I banged away and he fell, and I was proud
to tell my uncle, when he came out, that I had killed
the bear. ‘No, you didn’t,’
said he; ’your shots all went wild. Here’s
the shot that killed him,’ and sure enough it
was a shot of a different size from that of my gun.”

Page 22

“Another time when I found a bear in a cave
he said, ’You must go in this time and drive
out the bear.’ I was sure I couldn’t
do it, but he insisted, and thrusting the lighted
sticks into my hands bade me crawl in, keeping my
eyes fixed the while, as soon as I saw them, upon those
of the bear. I was to keep my back to the wall,
and when I got well in, was to dash the light behind
the bear and give a yell. I crawled in all right
and soon got to where I could just about stand up,
but when I saw the bear and he began to growl I was
scared and backed out pretty quick and said I didn’t
have light enough. My uncle grabbed the sticks
from me, called me a coward, rushed in, and as the
bear dashed out shot and killed it.”

It is generally thought that Indians are good shots,
but the testimony of the hunters of the Tahoe region
is that the Washoes are very poor shots. One
hunter tells me he has seen an Indian take as fine
a standing shot as one need desire, again and again,
and miss every time. On one occasion he was hunting
deer with an Indian. The latter had gone up a
steep slope, when, suddenly, he began to fire, and
kept it up until fourteen shots were fired. Said
he: “I was sure he must have a bunch of
deer and was making a big killing, and hurried up to
his side. When I got there I found he had sent
all those shot after one buck, and had succeeded only
in breaking its leg. With one shot I killed the
wounded animal, went up to it and was about to cut
its throat, when he begged me not to do so, asserting
that if I cut the deer’s throat that way I should
never get a standing shot again, the deer would always
be able to smell me.”

This is a quaint superstition. The Indians believe
that though the particular deer be slain it has the
power of communicating with living deer and informing
them of the peculiar “smell” of the hunter.
Hence, as in the olden days they had no guns, only
bows and arrows, and were compelled to creep up much
nearer to their prey than is needful with a gun, anything
that seemed to add to the deer’s power of scenting
the hunter must studiously be avoided.

And, although the gun had rendered the old methods
of hunting unnecessary, this particular precaution
still persisted and had all the force of established
custom.

My friend then continued: “Another superstition
I found out as I cleaned this deer. I cut out
the paunch, the heart and the liver and offered them
to the Indian. He refused them, saying it was
food fit only for women, children and old men.
If he were to eat them he would never have luck in
hunting again.”

This superstition is common with many Indian tribes.
It is based upon the idea that one becomes like that
which he eats. If one eats the heart of a mountain-lion
or bear he becomes daring and courageous. But
to eat the heart of the timid deer is to make oneself
timorous and cowardly.

As soon after puberty as possible a boy is taken out
by his father or uncle on a hunt. Prior to that
time he is not allowed to go. But before he can
eat of the product of the chase he must himself kill
a deer with large enough horns to allow him to crawl
through them.

Page 23

A friend of mine was out with a Washoe Indian whose
boy was along on his first hunting expedition.
They hunted a deer for nearly three days, but as soon
as they found tracks the father, after studying them
awhile, said: “This a little fellow.
No good. He not big enough”—­thus
signifying to his son that his horns were not large
enough to allow him to crawl through, hence it was
no use following the animal further.

The Indian is quite sure that deer can smell him and
know when he is on the hunt. He becomes skillful
in detecting and following their tracks, and knows
just how to circle around their hiding-place and suddenly
walk in upon them. My friend, referred to above,
who is a great hunter, was once out with a Washoe.
They had had three “bad” days, when suddenly
they found a deer’s track. It was fresh,
but when they came to the hole where he had lain down
to rest, though the place was quite warm, the deer
had gone. The Indian at once exclaimed: “That
deer smell me. I must get rid of the Indian smell.”
Accordingly he scooped out a hole in the ground, heated
a number of rocks in it, then, spreading fir boughs
over them, lay down over the rocks and took a “fir-sweat”
for fully ten to fifteen minutes. As he arose
he exclaimed: “Deer no smell me to-morrow,”
and my friend said he did no longer smell like an
Indian, but like burnt fir wood.

Turning to the Indian, however, he said: “You’re
all right, but how about me?” to which the reply
instantly came: “You all right. Deer
only smell Indian. He not smell white man.”

Chief among the women’s work is the making of
baskets. The best Washoe basket makers are not
surpassed by any weavers in the world. At Tallac,
Fallen Leaf, Glen Alpine and several other resorts
basket-makers may be found, preparing their splints,
weaving or trying to sell their baskets.

Not far from Tahoe Tavern, about a quarter a mile
away in the direction of Tahoe City, is the little
curio store of A. Cohn, whose headquarters are in
Carson City, the capital of the State of Nevada.
Mr. and Mrs. Cohn hold a unique position in their particular
field. Some twenty-five years ago they purchased
a beautiful basket from a Washoe Indian woman, named
Dat-so-la-le in Washoe, or Luisa Keyser in
American, for she was the wife of Charley Keyser, a
general roustabout Indian, well known to the citizens
of Carson. Luisa was a large, heavy, more than
buxom—­literally a fat,—­ungainly
squaw. But her fingers were under the perfect
control of a remarkably artistic brain. She was
not merely an artist but a genius. She saw exquisite
baskets in her dreams, and had the patience, persistence
and determination to keep on weaving until she was
able to reproduce them in actuality. She also
was possessed by an indomitable resolution to be the
maker of the finest baskets of the Washoe tribe.
While she was still a young woman she gained the goal
of her ambition, and it was just about this time that

Page 24

she offered one of her baskets to Mr. Cohn. He
saw it was an excellent basket, that the shape was
perfect, the color-harmony superior to any he had
seen before, the stitch small, fine, and even, the
weave generally perfect, the design original and worked
out with artistic ability. He saw all this, yet,
because it was Indian work, and the woman was a rude,
coarse mountain of flesh, a feminine Falstaff, of
a lower order of beings and without Falstaff’s
geniality and wit, he passed the basket by as merely
worth a dollar or two extra, and placed it side by
side with the work of other Washoe and Paiuti squaws.
A Salt Lake dealer came into the store soon thereafter
and saw this basket. “How much?” he
asked. The price was given—­rather
high thought Mr. Cohn—. “Twenty-five
dollars!” “I’ll take it!”
came the speedy response.

A month or two later Cohn received a photograph from
the purchaser, accompanied by a letter. “You
know the basket, herewith photographed, which I purchased
from you. Have you any more by the same weaver,
or of as good a weave? If so, how many, and at
what price? Wire reply at my expense.”

Then Mr. Cohn awoke, and he’s been awake ever
since. He wired his list of Dat-so-la-le’s
baskets, but he has had no reply, and that was twenty-five
years ago. He then made arrangements with Dat-so-la-le
and her husband. He provides them house, food,
clothing and a certain amount of cash yearly, and
he takes all the work Luisa makes. Every basket
as soon as begun is noted as carefully as every breeding
of a thoroughbred horse or dog. Also the date
the basket is finished. It is then numbered and
photographed and either offered for sale at a certain
price, which is never changed, or is put in the safety-deposit
vault of the bank, to await the time when such aboriginal
masterpieces will be eagerly sought after by the growingly
intelligent and appreciative of our citizens, for
their museums or collections, as specimens of work
of a people—­the first American families—­who
will then, possibly, have passed away. The photographs,
here reproduced, are of some of Dat-so-la-le’s
finest work.

[Illustration: Susie, the Washoe indian basket
maker, and narrator of indian legends]

[Illustration: Jackson, the Washoe indian, telling
traditions of his people about Lake Tahoe and Fallen
Leaf Lake]

[Illustration: Lake Tahoe near Tahoe Tavern,
looking south]

CHAPTER IV

INDIAN LEGENDS OF THE TAHOE REGION

As all students of the Indian are well aware these
aboriginal and out-of-door dwellers in the forests,
canyons, mountains, valleys, and on lake and seashores
are great observers of Nature, and her many and varied
phenomena. He who deems the Indian dull, stolid
and unimpressionable, simply because in the presence
of the White Race he is reserved and taciturn, little
knows the observing and reflecting power hidden behind

Page 25

so self-restrained a demeanor. Wherever natural
objects, therefore, are of a peculiar, striking, unusual,
unique, or superior character, it is reasonable to
assume that the Indians, living within sight of them,
should possess myths, legends, folk-lore, creation-stories
or the like in connection with their creation, preservation,
or present-day existence. This is found exemplified
in the legends of Havasupais, Hopis, Navajos and Wallapais
as to the origin of the Grand Canyon of Arizona, of
the Yohamities, Monos, Chuc-Chances, and others, of
the distinctive features of the Yosemite Valley, the
Hetch-Hetchy, etc.

While the present-day, half-educated, half-civilized
Washoes are by no means representatives of the highest
elements of natural enlightenment among the Indian
race, they do possess legends about Tahoe, the following
being the most interesting.

All these stories, except the last, were gathered
by Mrs. W.W. Price of Fallen Leaf Lodge, from
Indians with whom she has been very familiar for several
years, named Jackson and his wife Susan. There
has been no attempt to dress them up in literary fashion.
They are given as near to the Indians’ mode
of telling as possible. They are wonderfully
different from certain stories recently published in
current magazines, professing to be Legends of Lake
Tahoe. These latter are pure fiction, and to
those familiar with Indian thought, reveal their origin
in the imaginative brain of white writers who have
but faint conceptions of Indian mentality. Mrs.
Price is a graduate of Stanford University, and took
great pains to preserve the Indians’ exact mode
of expression. As she herself writes:

Long before the white man saw and wondered
over the beauty of Tahoe, theorizing over its
origin and concocting curious tales about its
“unfathomable” depths, the Indians knew
and loved it. And as among all other peoples,
legends have grown up to account for every phenomenon
of Nature, so among the Washoe Indians stories
about Tahoe have been handed down from generation
to generation.

I do not vouch for these legends.
The modern Indian too often tells what he thinks
you want to know,—­if only you will cross
his hand with silver. But there are touches
here and there that make me feel that for the
most part they are remnants of very old legends.

THE ORIGIN OF TAHOE, FALLEN
LEAF, AND OTHER LAKES

Long, long ago, before the white man
came to Nevada, there lived in the meadow over
beyond Glenbrook a good Indian. But though
he was good, he was much annoyed by the Evil Spirit,
who constantly interfered with all that he tried
to do. Finally, he determined that he must
move away and get over into the valleys of California.
But when he tried to escape, the Evil One was
always there ready to trip him in some way or other.

In his trouble the Good Spirit came
to his aid, giving him a leafy branch which had

Page 26

certain magic qualities. He was to start
on his journey. If he saw the Evil One coming
he was to drop a bit of the branch and water would
immediately spring up. The Evil One could
not cross water, and thus, being delayed by going
around, would give the Indian time to escape.

The Indian made his way well along to
where Tallac Hotel now is, when, looking back,
he saw the Evil One off in the distance approaching
with such strides that his heart was filled with
great fear. In his terror he tried to pluck a
leaf but it snapped off and he dropped almost
his whole branch. To his delight and relief
the waters began to rise and soon “Tahoe”—­Big
Water—­lay between him and his enemy.

Free-heartedly he hurried on his way
up the canyon, but when he reached the spot where
the head of Fallen Leaf Lake lies, he turned to
reassure himself. Away off the Evil One was advancing.
A new terror filled his soul. In his hand there
remained of his magic branch only one little twig
with a single leaf on it.

Plucking the leaf, he threw it down
and watched it fall waveringly through the air.
As it touched earth the waters again began to
rise and “Doolagoga”—­Fallen
Leaf—­sprang into being and on its
surface floated the little leaf, as many leaves
now float in the fall of the year.

Turning, he sped up the ravine,
dropping bits of his twig as
fear directed him, and in
his path, Lily, Grass, and Heather
lakes came up to guard his
way.

At last he was over the crest
of the mountain and found
himself safe in the long-wished-for
Valley of California.

THE LEGEND OF THE TWO BROTHERS

Once long ago in Paiuti-land, Nevada,
there lived two brothers. The older was a
hunter and brought home much game. His wife,
whose name was Duck, used to cook this for him, but
she was very stingy to the younger brother, and
often times he was hungry. When he begged
her for food, she scolded him and drove him out
of the campoodie, saying, “Got none for
you.”

One day when the older brother was off
hunting Duck was cleaning some fish. She
had been very cross to Little Brother, refusing
to give him any food, and he was terribly hungry.
Presently he came creeping up behind her and when he
saw all the fish he became very angry. He
took up a big club and before Duck could turn
around he hit her on the head and killed her.
Paying no attention to her dead body he cooked and
ate all the fish he wanted and then lay down in
the sunshine on a big rock and went fast asleep.

By and by his Hunter Brother came home.
Of course when he found his wife dead, he was
filled with great anger at his young brother,
though his anger was lessened when he thought of
his wife’s cruelty. He shook him very roughly
and said, “I no like you any more!
I go away. Leave you alone!” But Little

Page 27

Brother begged, “Don’t be angry!
Don’t be angry! Let’s go far away!
I help you all the time! Don’t be angry!”

Gradually he persuaded the Hunter Brother
to forgive him and they started off together toward
the “Big Water”—­Lake Tahoe.
On the way the Hunter Brother taught the Little Brother
how to shoot with a bow and arrow. By the time
they reached the spot now known as Lakeside both
their belts were filled with squirrels that they
had shot.

At dusk they built a good fire and when
there were plenty of glowing coals, Hunter Brother
dug a long hole, and filling it with embers, laid
the squirrels in a row on the coals covering them
all up with earth.

He was tired and lay down by the fire
to rest till the squirrels should be cooked.
With his head resting on his arms, the warmth
of the fire soothing him, he soon fell fast, fast
asleep.

Little Brother sat by the fire and as
the night grew darker, he grew hungrier and hungrier.
He tried to waken his brother, but the latter
seemed almost like one dead and he could not rouse
him. At last he made up his mind he would eat
by himself. Going to the improvised oven,
he began to dig up the squirrels, counting them
as they came to light. One was missing.
Little Brother was troubled.

“How that? My brother
had so many, I had so many!”—­counting
on his fingers—­“One
gone!” And he forgot how hungry he was as
he dug for the missing squirrel.

All at once he came upon a
bigger hole adjoining the cooking
hole. While he stood
wondering what to do, out popped a great
big spider.

“I’ll catch you!”
cried the spider.

“No, you won’t!” said
the boy, and up he jumped and away he ran, followed
by the spider. They raced over stock and stone,
dodging about trees and stumbling over fallen logs
for a long time. At last Little Brother could
run no more. The spider grabbed him and carried
him back to his hole, where he killed him.

It was almost daybreak when
Hunter Brother awoke. He called
his brother to bring more
wood, for the fire was almost out.
Getting no answer he went
to look at the cooking squirrels.

Greatly surprised to see them lying
there all uncovered, he, too, counted them.
Discovering one gone, he thought his brother must
have eaten it and was about to eat one himself when
he saw the old spider stick his head out of the hole.
Each made a spring, but the Hunter Brother was
the quicker and killed the wicked spider with
his knife.

Carefully he now went into the spider’s
hole. There, stretched out on the ground,
lay Little Brother dead! Taking him
up in his arms, he carried him outside. Now this
Hunter Brother was a medicine-man of great
power, so he lay down with Little Brother and
breathed into his mouth and in a few minutes he

Page 28

came back to life and was all right.[1]

The Hunter Brother was very happy to
have his Little Brother alive again. He built
up the fire and while they sat eating their long-delayed
meal Little Brother told all that had happened
to him.

[Footnote 1: Susan who was telling this story
offered no reason why he had not restored Duck, his
own wife, to life.]

The sun was quite above the horizon
before the meal was finished, and soon Hunter
Brother was anxious to be moving on, so they took
their way along the lake shore. On their way they
talked and laughed one with another and seemed
to agree very well, until they had gone around
the lake and reached where Tahoe City now is.
Here they quarreled and the Hunter Brother left
Little Brother to return and go up the Big Mountain—­Tallac—­where
he had heard there were many squirrels. After
his departure, Little Brother decided to follow
him and get him to make friends again. So he trudged
along the lake shore until he came to Emerald Bay.

There lying on the log at
the edge of the lake, lay a
water-baby. It was asleep
with its head resting on its arms
and its beautiful, sunshine-golden-hair
was spread over it.

“Oh,” said Little Brother,
“I’ll get that beautiful sun-shine-hair
as a present for my brother!” So he crept very
softly down on the log, thinking to kill the water-baby
before it awoke. But he was not successful
in this, for the creature opened its eyes as he
laid his hand on its hair, and a furious fight
ensued. Sometimes it seemed as though Little Brother
would be killed, but finally he was able to scalp
the poor water-baby and get possession of the
beautiful sunshine-golden-hair. Every one
can see where this fight occurred. The red
hill near Emerald Bay stands as a memorial of
the struggle, for its color is caused by the blood
of the slain water-baby.

Tucking his prize in his hunting shirt
and hugging it close, Little Brother now went
on, murmuring to himself, “Oh, my brother
like this, my brother like this beautiful golden-sunshine-hair!”

But suddenly, as he was climbing upward,
he noticed the water lapping at his heels, and
when he turned to see whence it came, he found
that the big lake behind him was rapidly rising,
and even as he stood wondering, it arose above his
ankles.

Then he remembered what he had heard
of revengeful water-babies, but frightened though
he was, he could not bear to throw away his prize.
However, he knew he must do something, so he plucked
out a few hairs from the scalp and threw them
into the ascending waves. For a minute the water
ceased to rise and he sped onward, but before long
he felt the water at his heels again, and knew
that once more he must gain a short respite by
throwing out a few of the golden-sunshine-hairs.
And ever and again he had to do this until at last

Page 29

he spied his brother ahead of him. “Ah,
brother,” he cried, drawing the scalp from
his blouse, “see what a beautiful present I have
for you!”

But when his brother turned toward him
he saw only the angry, rising waters, and rushing
forward he snatched the beautiful sunshine-golden-hair
and cast it back into the waters, crying, “How
you dare meddle with water-babies? Don’t
you know water surely come up and get you?”

And poor Little Brother felt very sad;
but the danger he had been in seemed to have endeared
him once more to Hunter Brother and they stood
arm-in-arm and watched the waters recede.

But there were hollows in the land and
when the waters went back they held the water
and so were formed that chain of lakes on the
other side of Tallac and Emerald Bay, the Velmas,
Kalmia, Cascade, and others.

The rest of the story is confused and
full of repetitions. The gist of it is that
Little Brother was ever getting into trouble from
which Hunter Brother had to rescue him, for which
Little Brother was most grateful and would go off
seeking for a present to give to the Big Brother
who was so kind to him.

Once he got a young bear cub.
He thought it was a dog. He
petted it and brought it to
his brother as a hunting-dog.

Finally, after Hunter Brother had made
a first-class hunter of Little Brother so that
he could use his bow and arrows with great success,
they went down toward the Sacramento Valley hunting
deer. They followed a fine buck over hill and
dale but could not get a good shot at him.
At last worn out by running and suffering greatly,
the Little Brother lay down and died. When
his brother found him, he did not attempt to bring
him to life again but buried him under a pile
of rocks and leaves.

THE “WILD-GRUB”
HOLE AT GARDNERVILLE

Once upon a time there was an old Indian
who lived over in Hope Valley with his two grand-daughters.
He was a mean old man. He made the girls
work very hard all day long. They had to
gather wild grass seeds and acorns and grind them
into flour all the time. The old man caught plenty
of fish and frogs which he took off for his own
eating, but he gave the girls none.

One day he came in with a woodchuck
skin and told the girls to fill it with wild wheat
flour. He did not tell them what he wanted
it for. When the skin was full he left the campoodie
without a word as to where he was going. But
the bag leaked and a little stream of flour trickled
out and marked his path. He went away off
to a lake where he caught plenty of fish and frogs
on which he feasted until he could eat no more.
Then he lay down by his fire and was soon fast asleep.

Meanwhile in the campoodie the
two girls were talking about the old man’s
meanness. “He makes us work so hard and
we never have any fish to eat. He keeps it

Page 30

all himself,” said the older girl.

“I wonder where he’s gone
now?” said the younger one, going to the
door-way and looking out. Suddenly she noticed
the little line of flour trailing off through
the woods. “Ah, now I’ll find
him!” And just calling to her sister that she
would be back soon, she darted off.

It was dark when she came back weeping.
She threw herself on the ground outside the campoodie
and poured out her story. She had found the
old man lying there fast asleep, gorged with fish.
The remnants of his feast lay all about him.
She had not dared to waken him or speak to him,
but coming home, had made up her mind to run away
and not work for the mean old man any more.

To this the sister agreed,
and at daybreak they were scurrying
off through the forest.

All day they traveled and
when night came they were still in
the wilds far from any Indian
camp.

Worn out, they lay down under
a great pine and looked up at
the stars.

“Oh,” said the
older girl, “see that fine Star-man up there!
I’d like to marry him!”

“Oh, no!” said
the younger, “he belongs to me. I’d
like to
marry him!”

They lay there telling what each would
do could she only marry the Star-man, until they
fell asleep. When they awoke in the morning,
lo, they found themselves up in the sky, and the
elder girl had a baby already—­a star-baby!
At first the girls were very good to the star-baby
but it cried a great deal. One day the younger
girl was very cross and put it outside of the
campoodie. The poor baby cried all
the more until the elder sister took pity on it,
but when she had fed it and it still cried, the younger
sister became very angry and told her sister to
put that “brat” outside. The
sister was tired too, so she put the poor baby
outside.

When the baby could not make them come
to him, he got up and went to find his grandfather,
the Moon. He told him how mean his mother
and aunt were to him. The old Moon was very angry.
He took the star-baby by the hand and went tramping
back through the sky to find the cruel mother
and her sister.

Now, the girls had been getting rather
tired of their sky-campoodie and they longed
for their home on the earth. They used to
go to a hole in the sky and look down on the earth,
wishing they were there again. Indeed, at the
time the star-baby went off to find his grandfather,
the Moon, they were at the hole in the sky, amusing
themselves by looking through and indulging in
vain regrets that they were no longer there.

“Oh, sister,”
suddenly said the elder, “there goes our old
grandfather! Poor old
man! I wish we were with him! See, he’s
carrying big bags of wild
wheat-flour and acorns!”

Page 31

Just then the old Moon came tramping
up, and the whole sky trembled. The people
on earth said it was thundering. He grabbed
the two girls by their hair and shaking them till they
were almost dead, he hurled them down through the
hole.

Down, down, they went, straight down
to where their old grandfather was walking along,
little suspecting what was coming. They both
hit him and, coming as they did with such force,
they made a deep hole in the earth in which they were
almost buried.

That hole is over by Gardnerville.
In that hole Indians can always find plenty of
wild-grub—­wild-wheat, wild potato, wild
acorn—­plenty there. Snow very deep.
No difference. Always plenty wild grub there.
I see that hole. I believe that story!

THE ORIGIN OF THE DIFFERENT
INDIAN TRIBES

Long, long ago, away over in Paiuti-land
there were some young boys and girls playing.
They played all sorts of games, but they liked
hand-ball best. And as they played, they sang
songs of gladness.

There was one old woman, their grandmother,
who would not play with them. She had a little
baby, her youngest grandchild, whom she was trying
to quiet, but the little one cried and cried continuously.

By-and-by the old woman heard
a noise outside. She was
frightened and called to the
young folks. “Some one’s coming!
You better stop! Better
hide! Maybe Evil One, devil, coming!”

But the young folks paid no
attention to her warning. They
kept on playing harder than
ever. The old woman covered the
baby with a big basket and
hid her own face in her shawl.

Then the Evil One came in. All
the young folks turned to see who was coming in
and as soon as they looked upon his face they
fell dead. Only the old woman and the baby were
left; for the Evil One did not see them.

When he was gone, the old
woman snatched up the baby and
hurried off down to the river.
As she was hurrying along she
met an old man.

“Where are you going?” said
he. Then the old woman saw that it was the
Evil One himself. She was afraid but she did not
want him to know it. She kept the baby covered
in the basket and answered, “I’m going
to the river to get wild potatoes!”

“Where are all the girls?”
asked the Evil One.

“Oh, they are all over
behind the big mountain, playing ball!”

The Evil One went off to find
them, because he thought there
were still some left, and
the old woman quickly dug a big hole
and hid herself and the baby
away in it.

When the Evil One found that the old
woman had told him a lie, he was very angry.
He came back and hunted all day long till sundown
for her that he might kill her. But he could
not find any trace of her. He finally went home
and then the old woman took the baby and hid on the
top of a big rock, over near where Sheridan now
is.

In the morning the Evil One
came back to hunt further, but
without success.

Page 32

“I guess that the old
woman is dead,” said he, “or maybe she’s
gone across the river.”
But the Evil One loses his power if he
touches water, so he dare
not cross the river to follow her.

The old woman watched him
from the top of the rock. Many times
she feared lest he should
find her, and she covered the baby
more closely.

At last when he had given up the hunt,
she saw him take a great basket and set it down
in the road. Into this basket he put great
bunches of elderberry roots, and as he put each bunch
in, he gave it a name—­Washoe, Digger, Paiuti,
and so on. Then he put the lid on tightly
and went off through the forest.

The old woman watched till
the Evil One had gone. Creeping
quietly down, she came with
the child—­she was a little girl
now, not a wee baby any more—­and
sat down near the basket.

Presently there was a murmuring
in the basket. “Oh,
grandmother, what’s
that noise?” said the little girl.

“Never mind,”
said the grandmother, “don’t you touch
the
basket!”

But the little girl kept teasing,
“Oh, grandmother, what’s in
there?”

And the old woman would say,
“Don’t you touch it!”

The old woman turned her back just one
minute and the little girl slipped up and raised
the lid ever so little. There was a great
whirring noise; the lid flew off and out came all
the Indians. Off through the air they flew—­Washoes
to Washoe land; Diggers to Digger land; Paiutis
to Nevada—­each Indian to his own home.

The story given above is the one told by Jackson,
but his wife, Susan, tells the same story with these
essential differences. In her narrative there
is no Evil One. The old woman scolded the young
people for playing, but they are not all killed.
It is the old woman herself who took a Paiuti water-bottle
and after filling it with water, took wild seeds and
placed them in the bottle, naming them the different
Indian tribes. The seeds swelled in the water
until they were as big as eggs and out of these the
Indians hatched like chickens, and began to fight.
It is the noise of the fighting that the baby hears.

As in Jackson’s story the baby lets them out,
but it is the wind that carries them off to their
various homes.

HOW THE INDIANS FIRST GOT
FIRE

The Indians were having a
“big time” in a great log cabin.
All the birds were there too,
for in those days the Indians,
birds, and animals could talk
to each other.

They were dancing all around
the room and all were merry as
could be. They had a
huge wooden drum and, as they passed
this, the dancers kicked it
to make music.

Page 33

Now, among the birds who were there
was a big blue-jay. He was a very saucy fellow,
just full of mean tricks. When he came to the
drum, he kicked it so hard that he broke it all to
pieces. Of course this caused a great commotion.
Every one was so provoked by his rudeness that
they threw him out of the door.

It was raining hard and the impudence
was soon washed out of Mr. Blue-Jay. He begged
at the door in vain, and at last he huddled up
on the branch of a tree, thinking himself greatly
abused.

As he sat there, suddenly,
far off, he saw a strange light.
Now the Blue-Jay has an infinite
amount of curiosity, so away
he flew to investigate, quite
forgetting his troubles.

It was fire which the Indian
god had brought down to earth.
The Jay got a piece and soon
came flying back to the great
cabin where the dance was
still going on.

When he called now at the door, saying
that he had something wonderful to show them,
they knew that he was telling the truth.
They let him come in, crowding about him to see this
wonderful thing. They did not know what to
make of this strange new thing. Lest anything
should happen to it, they dug a hole and buried
the fire most carefully.

Tired out with the night’s dancing
the Indians all went off to rest, leaving the
birds to watch the precious fire. But the
birds were tired too, and it was not long before they
were fast asleep. All except the owl.
He was wide awake and he, being very wise, knew
that the fire must be put in a safer place.
He went out and calling the yellow snake, the rat,
and the little “hummer” bird, he explained
what he wanted them to do. The snake was
to worm his way in under the logs and wait there
till the hummer-bird brought him the fire. The
rat was to go in and chew all the birds’
wings so that they should not be able to catch
the little hummer. They were all so fast asleep
that the rat was able to do this very easily.

All went just as they planned.
The snake took the fire and hid a little spark
of it in every buckeye tree. And there the Indians
found it when they needed it. For rubbing a piece
of cedar and buckeye together, they very quickly
make the spark, and produce fire.

A LEGEND OF LAKE TAHOE

The following legend was published some years ago
in Sunset Magazine. It was written by
Miss Nonette V. McGlashan, who heard it from a Washoe
squaw. The story was told with strange gestures
and weird pathos:

Page 34

The ong was a big bird, bigger than
the houses of the white man. Its body was
like the eagle’s, and its wings were longer
than the tallest pines. Its face was that
of an Indian, but covered with hard scales, and
its feet were webbed. Its nest was deep down
in the bottom of the Lake, out in the center, and
out of the nest rushed all the waters which fill the
Lake. There are no rivers to feed the Lake,
only the waters from the ong’s nest.
All the waters flow back near the bottom, in great
under-currents, and after passing through the meshes
of the nest are sent forth again. Every plant
and bird and animal that gets into these under-currents,
and sometimes the great trout that are swept into
the net-like nest are there held fast to furnish
food for the ong.

He ate everything, he liked everything,
but best of all he liked the taste of human flesh.
No one ever heard or saw anything of such poor
mortals as were drowned in these waters, for their
bodies were carried to the ong’s nest and no
morsel ever escaped him. Sometimes he would
fly about the shores in quest of some child or
woman or hunter, yet he was a great coward and
was never known to attack any one in camp, or when
two or more were together. No arrow could
pierce his feathers, nor could the strongest spear
do more than glance from the scales on his face
and legs, yet his coward’s heart made him afraid
for his toes had no claws, and his mouth no beak.

Late one fall, the Washoes were making
their final hunt before going to the valleys and
leaving the Lake locked in its winter snows.
The chief’s daughter was sixteen years old, and
before leaving the Lake he must select the greatest
hero in the tribe for her husband, for such had
been the custom of the Washoe chiefs ever since
the tribe came out of the Northland. Fairer
than ever maiden had been was this daughter, and every
unmarried brave and warrior in the tribe wished
that he had performed deeds of greater prowess,
that he might be certain of winning the prize.
That last night at the Lake, around the big council
fire, each was to recount to the chief the noblest
achievement of his life, and when all were heard
the chief would choose, and the women join the
circle and the wedding take place. For many
years the warriors had looked forward to this
event, and the tribe had become famed because of acts
of reckless daring performed by those who hoped
to wed the chief’s daughter.

It was the morning of the final day
and much game and great stores of dried trout
were packed ready for the journey. All were
preparing for the wedding festivities, and the fact
that no one knew who would be the bridegroom,
among all that band of warriors, lent intensest
excitement to the event. All were joyous
and happy except the maiden and the handsome young
brave to whom she had given her heart. In
spite of custom or tradition her love had long
since gone out to one whose feet had been too

Page 35

young to press the war-path when last the tribe gave
battle to their hereditary foes, the Paiutis.
He never had done deed of valor, nor could he even
claim the right to sit with the warriors around
the council fire. All day long he had been
sitting alone on the jutting cliffs which overhang
the water, far away from the laughter and shouts
of the camp, eagerly, prayerfully watching the great
Lake. Surely the Great Spirit would hear his prayer,
yet he had been here for days and weeks in unavailing
prayer and waiting.

The afternoon was well-nigh spent and
the heart of the young brave had grown cold as
stone. In his bitter despair he sprang to
his feet to defy the Great Spirit in whom he had trusted,
but ere he could utter the words his very soul
stood still for joy. Slowly rising from the
center of the Lake, he saw the ong. Circling
high in the heavens, the monster swept now here, now
there, in search of prey. The young brave stood
erect and waited. When the ong was nearest
he moved about slightly to attract its notice.
He had not long to wait. With a mighty swoop,
the bird dashed to earth, and as it arose, the young
brave was seen to be clasped fast in its talons.
A great cry of horror arose from the camp, but
it was the sweetest note the young brave had ever
heard. The bird flew straight up into the
sky until Lake and forest and mountains seemed small
and dim. When it reached a great height it
would drop its prey into the Lake and let the
current draw it to its nest. Such was its
custom, and for this the brave had prepared by
unwinding from his waist a long buckskin cord and tying
himself firmly to the ong’s leg. The
clumsy feet could not grasp him so tightly as
to prevent his movements. At last the great
feet opened wide, but the Indian did not fall.
In a mighty rage, the ong tried in vain to grasp
him in his teeth, but the strong web between the
bird’s toes sheltered him. Again and
again the bird tried to use his horrid teeth, and
each time his huge body would fall through the
air in such twistings and contortions that those
who watched below stared in bewilderment.
But what the watchers could not see was that every
time the huge mouth opened to snap him, the young brave
hurled a handful of poisoned arrowheads into the
mouth and down the big throat, their sharp points
cutting deep into the unprotected flesh.
The bird tried to dislodge him by rubbing his
feet together, but the thong held firm. Now
it plunged headlong into the Lake, but its feet
were so tied that it could not swim, and though it
lashed the waters into foam with its great wings,
and though the man was nearly drowned and wholly
exhausted, the poison caused the frightened bird
such agony that it suddenly arose and tried to
escape by flying toward the center of the Lake.
The contest had lasted long and the darkness crept
over the Lake, and into the darkness the bird
vanished.

The women had been long in their huts

Page 36

ere the council fire was kindled and the warriors
gravely seated themselves in its circle.
No such trifling event as the loss of a young brave
could be allowed to interfere with so important
an event, and from most of their minds he had
vanished. It was not so very unusual for
the ong to claim a victim, and, besides, the youth
had been warned by his elders that he should not
go hunting alone as had been his habit of late.

But while the warriors were working
themselves up into a fine frenzy of eloquence
in trying to remind the old chief of their bygone
deeds of daring, an Indian maiden was paddling a canoe
swiftly and silently toward the middle of the Lake.
Nona, the chief’s daughter understood no
more than the rest why her lover had not been
dropped into the Lake, nor why the ong had acted
so queerly, but she knew that she could die with her
lover. She took her own frail canoe because
it was so light and easy to row, though it was
made for her when a girl, and would scarcely support
her weight now. It mattered nothing to her
if the water splashed over the sides; it mattered nothing
how she reached her lover. She kept saying
his name over softly to herself, “Tahoe!
My darling Tahoe!”

When the council was finished, the women
went to her hut to bid her come and hear the decision
her father was about to render. The consternation
caused by her disappearance lasted until the rosy
dawn tinged the Washoe peaks and disclosed to the
astounded tribe the body of the ong floating on the
waters above its nest, and beside it an empty canoe.
In the foreground, and gently approaching the
shore was the strangest craft that ever floated
on water! It was one of the great ong’s
wings, and the sail was the tip of the other wing!
Standing upon it, clasped in each other’s arms,
were the young brave, Tahoe, and the daughter of
the chief. In the shouts of the tribe, shouts
in which warriors and women and children mingled
their voices with that of the chief, Tahoe was
proclaimed the hero of heroes! The decision was
rendered, but the ong’s nest remains, and
the drowned never rise in Lake Tahoe.

CHAPTER V

THE VARIOUS NAMES OF LAKE TAHOE

We have already seen that Fremont, the discoverer
of Lake Tahoe, first called it Lake Bonpland, after
Humboldt’s scientific co-traveler. That
name, however, never came in general use. When
the great westward emigration began it seemed naturally
to be called by its Indian name, Tahoe.

In Innocents Abroad Mark Twain thus petulantly
and humorously expresses his dislike of the name,
Tahoe, and sarcastically defines its meaning.

Page 37

“Sorrow and misfortune overtake
the legislature that still from year to year permits
Tahoe to retain its unmusical cognomen! Tahoe!
It suggests no crystal waters, no picturesque shores,
no sublimity. Tahoe for a sea in the clouds; a
sea that has character, and asserts it in solemn
calms, at times, at times in savage storms; a
sea, whose royal seclusion is guarded by a cordon
of sentinel peaks that lift their frosty fronts
nine thousand feet above the level world; a sea whose
every aspect is impressive, whose belongings are all
beautiful, whose lonely majesty types the Deity!

“Tahoe means grasshoppers.
It means grasshopper soup. It is Indian,
and suggestive of Indians. They say it is Pi-ute—­possibly
it is Digger. I am satisfied it was named by
the Diggers—­those degraded savages who roast
their dead relatives, then mix the human grease
and ashes of bones with tar, and ‘gaum’
it thick all over their heads and foreheads and
ears, and go caterwauling about the hills and call
it mourning. These are the gentry
that named the Lake.

“People say that Tahoe means ’Silver
Lake’—­’Limpid Water’—­’Falling
Leaf.’ Bosh! It means grasshopper soup,
the favorite dish of the Digger tribe—­and
of the Pi-utes as well. It isn’t worth
while, in these practical times, for people to talk
about Indian poetry—­there never was any
in them—­except in the Fenimore Cooper
Indians. But they are an extinct tribe
that never existed. I know the Noble Red Man.
I have camped with the Indians; I have been on
the warpath with them, taken part in the chase
with them—­for grasshoppers; helped them
steal cattle; I have roamed with them, scalped
them, had them for breakfast. I would gladly
eat the whole race if I had a chance.

“But I am growing unreliable.”

With all due deference to the wisdom—­as
well as the humor—­of Mark Twain as applied
to Lake Tahoe, I emphatically disagree with him as
to the Indians of the Tahoe region, and also as to
the name of the Lake. Tahoe is quite as good-sounding
a name as Como, Lucerne, Katrine or Lomond. A
name, so long as it is euphonious, is pleasing or not,
more because of its associations than anything else.
The genuine Indian, as he was prior to the coming
of the white man, was uncorrupted, uncivilized, unvitiated,
undemoralized, undiseased in body, mind and soul,
a nature-observer, nature-lover and nature-worshiper.
He was full of poetic conceptions and fired with a
vivid imagination that created stories to account
for the existence of unusual, peculiar or exceptional
natural objects, that, in brilliancy of conception,
daring invention, striking ingenuity and vigor of
detail surpass, or at least equal, the best
imaginative work of Kipling or Mark Twain himself.
It seems to me that his—­the Indian’s—­name
for this Lake—­Tahoe—­is both
euphonious and full of poetic and scientific suggestion.
It is poetic in that it expresses in a word the unequaled
height and purity of so large a body of water, and
scientific in that it is truthful and accurate.

Page 38

But Fremont, the discoverer, evidently did not ask
or seek to know its Indian name. As stated elsewhere
he erroneously conceived it to be the headquarters
of one of the forks of the American river, flowing
into the Sacramento, and he so depicts it on his map,
giving to it the two names “Mountain Lake”
or “Lake Bonpland.” But neither of
these names was acceptable and they practically dropped
out of sight.

When the first actual determination of Tahoe’s
outlet through the Truckee River was made is not definitely
known, but its approximate location was well enough
established in 1853 to enable the official map-maker
of the new State of California to depict it with reasonable
accuracy, and, for some reason, to name it Lake Bigler,
after John Bigler, the third Governor of California.

Citizens are still living both in Nevada and California
who well remember when the Lake held this name, and
the majority of people undoubtedly used it until 1862.
Officially, also, it was known as Lake Bigler in 1862,
for in the Nevada Statutes there is recorded
an Act approved December 19, 1862, authorizing certain
parties to construct a railroad “to be known
as the Lake Bigler and Virginia Railroad Co.,
to commence at a point on the Kingsbury-McDonald road
known as the Kingsbury and McDonald Toll House, thence
along the southern and eastern shores of Lake Bigler,
and in most direct practical route, to the divide
between Virginia City and Washoe Valley on east side
Washoe Lake, over and through the most practical pass
to Virginia City,” and a further right to construct
branch road from Virginia to Carson City, Nevada.

In 1861, however, while Downey was Governor of California
(he having been elected Lieut. Governor, and
taking the office on the resignation of Governor Latham
in January 1860), an attempt was made to change the
name from Bigler to the fanciful one of Tula Tulia,
but fortunately it failed and the old name remained
in general use.

But in 1862 another effort was made in an entirely
different direction and this time with success.
It was brought about through the work of William Henry
Knight, still living in Los Angeles, who has kindly
furnished the following account:

In the year 1859 I was the youngest
member of an overland company which crossed the
plains and mountains from St. Joseph, Mo., to California.
Our train was in three divisions and consisted of
about twenty persons, and forty horses and mules.

One morning in the middle of August
we left our camp at the eastern base of the double
summit of the Sierra Nevadas and began our ascent.
Mounted on my faithful steed, Old Pete, I pushed
on in advance of the caravan, in order to get the first
view of the already famous mountain lake, then
known as Lake Bigler. The road wound through
the defile and around the southern border of the
Lake on the margin of which we camped for two
days.

Page 39

As I approached the summit I turned
from the main road and followed a trail to the
right which led to the top of a bare rock overlooking
the valley beyond and furnishing an unobstructed
view.

Thus my first view of that beautiful
sheet of water was from a projecting cliff 1000
feet above its surface, and it embraced not only
the entire outline of the Lake with its charming bays
and rocky headlands but also the magnificent forests
of giant pines and firs in which it was embosomed,
and the dozen or more lofty mountain peaks thrusting
their white summits into the sky at altitudes
varying from 8000 to 11,000 feet above sea level.

No imagination can conceive the beauty,
sublimity and inspiration of that scene, especially
to one who had for weary months been traversing
dusty, treeless and barren plains. The contrast
was overwhelming. Tears filled my eyes as I gazed
upon the fairy scene. I recall the entrancing
picture to-day, in all its splendid detail, so
vividly was it photographed upon my brain.

Since that hour I have crossed the continent
ten times, over various railway routes, visited
most of the States of the Union, and seven foreign
countries, heard the testimony of others whose
travels have been world-wide, and I doubt if another
scene of equal enchantment exists on the face of the
globe.

In 1861, two years after my visit to
Tahoe, I gathered the data for compiling the first
general map of the Pacific States, which embraced
the region from British Columbia to Mexico, and
from the Rocky Mountains to the coast. It was
ready for the engraver in February, 1862.
I had instructed the draughtsman, V. Wackenreuder,
afterward connected with the State Geological
Survey, to omit the name of Lake Bigler, which
was on contemporary maps.

I invited John S. Hittell, editor of
the Alta California, a leading San Francisco
daily, and Dr. Henry DeGroot, writer on the Evening
Bulletin and correspondent of the able Sacramento
Union, to come round to Bancroft’s publishing
house and inspect the map.

Dr. DeGroot had just returned from a
visit to the Comstock silver mines in the Washoe
district of Western Nevada. He suddenly turned
to me and said: “Why, Knight, you have left
off the name of Lake Bigler.” I remarked
that many people had expressed dissatisfaction
with that name, bestowed in honor of a Governor
of California who had not distinguished himself by
any signal achievement, and I thought that now

Page 40

would be a good time to select an appropriate
name and fix it forever on that beautiful sheet
of water.

The suggestion met with favor, and several
names were proposed—­Washington, Lincoln,
then war President, Fremont, an early explorer,
and other historic names. I asked Dr. DeGroot
if he knew what the native Indians called the Lake.

He drew a memorandum from his pocket
and read over a list of Indian names local to
that region, and exclaimed: “Here it is;
they call it ‘Tahoe,’ meaning ‘big
water,’ or ‘high water,’ or ‘water
in a high place.’ The word rhymes with Washoe.”

I did not quite like the name at first
mention, but its significance was so striking
that I asked if they—­Hittell and DeGroot—­would
favor its adoption and back it up with the support
of their newspapers, and they agreed to do so.

They advocated the adoption of the new
name in their respective journals, the country
papers almost unanimously fell into line, I inserted
it on the map which bore my name—­William
Henry Knight—­as compiler, and which was
published by the Bancroft house in 1862.

I immediately wrote to the Land Office
at Washington, reported what I had done, and the
sentiment that prevailed in California, and requested
the Federal official to substitute the name of
Tahoe for Bigler on the next annual map to be issued
by his office, and in all the printed matter of the
Department of the Interior thereafter. This
was done.

But a curious thing happened. Nevada
was under a territorial government appointed by
the Democratic administration of President Buchanan.
The Territorial Legislature was in session when
the subject was agitated by the California newspapers.
A young statesman of that body, thirsting for
fame, rose to his feet and in vociferous tones
and with frenzied gestures, denounced this high-handed
action of California in changing the name of that
Lake without consulting the sister commonwealth
of Nevada, as, according to the map, half of that
noble sheet of water was in Nevada, and such action
would require joint jurisdiction. But his
impassioned words were wasted on the desert air
of the Sagebrush State. He could not muster
enough votes to enact his indignation into a law,
and the calm surface of Lake Tahoe was unruffled
by the tempestuous commotion raging in legislative
halls at Carson City.

It was thus that the beautiful, euphonious,
and significant name of “Tahoe” was
first placed on my own map, and subsequently appeared
on all other maps of the State, because it was
universally accepted as a fitting substitute for the
former name of “Bigler.” A traveled
writer refers to the Lake and the name selected
in these terms:

“Thus it was that we went to Lake
Tahoe, the beautiful ’Big Water’ of
the Washoe Indians—­Tahoe with the indigo
shade of its waters emphasized by its snow-capped

Page 41

setting. The very first glance lifts one’s
soul above the petty cares of the lower valleys,
and one feels the significance of the Indian title—­’Big
Water’—­not referring to size alone,
but to the greatness of influence, just as the
all-pervading Power is the ‘Big Spirit.’”

One would naturally think that there had been changes
enough. But no! In spite of the fact that
the Federal government had accepted the change to
Tahoe, and that the popular usage had signified the
general approval of the name, the Hon. W.A. King,
of Nevada County, during the Governorship of Haight,
in California, introduced into the assembly a bill
declaring that Lake Bigler should be “the official
name of the said lake and the only name to be regarded
as legal in official documents, deeds, conveyances,
leases and other instruments of writing to be placed
on state or county records, or used in reports made
by state, county or municipal officers.”

Historian Hittell thus comments on this: “The
bill, which appears to have been well modulated to
the taste and feelings of the legislature, went through
with great success. It passed the Assembly on
February 1, the Senate on February 7; and on February
10 it was approved by the Governor. It remains
a monument, if not to Bigler, at least to the legislature
that passed it; while the name of the Lake will doubtless
continue to be Tahoe and its sometime former
designation of Bigler be forgotten.”

Now if Mark Twain really objected to the name Tahoe
why did he not join the Biglerites and insist upon
the preservation of that name?

On the Centennial Map of 1876 it was named “Lake
Bigler or Lake Tahoe,” showing that some one
evidently was aware that, officially, it was still
Lake Bigler.

And so, in fact, it is to this date, as far as official
action can make it so, and it is interesting to conjecture
what the results might be were some malicious person,
or some “legal-minded stickler for rigid adherence
to the law,” to bring suit against those whose
deeds, titles, leases, or other documents declare it
to be Lake Tahoe.

CHAPTER VI

JOHN LE CONTE’S PHYSICAL STUDIES OF LAKE TAHOE

In certain numbers (November and December 1883 and
January 1884) of the Overland Monthly, Professor
John Le Conte, of the State University, Berkeley,
California, presented the results of his physical
studies of Lake Tahoe in three elaborate chapters.
From these the following quotations of general interest
are taken:

Hundreds of Alpine lakes of various
sizes, with their clear, deep, cold, emerald or
azure waters, are embosomed among the crags of
the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The most extensive,
as well as the most celebrated, of these bodies
of fresh water is Lake Tahoe.

This Lake, ... occupies an elevated
valley at a point where the Sierra Nevada divides

Page 42

into two ranges. It is, as it were, ingulfed
between two lofty and nearly parallel ridges, one
lying to the east and the other to the west.
As the crest of the principal range of the Sierra
runs near the western margin of this Lake, this
valley is thrown on the eastern slope of this
great mountain system.

The boundary line between the States
of California and Nevada makes an angle of about
131 degrees in this Lake, near its southern extremity,
precisely at the intersection of the 39th parallel
of north latitude with the 120th meridian west from
Greenwich. Inasmuch as, north of this angle,
this boundary line follows the 120th meridian,
which traverses the Lake longitudinally from two
to four miles from its eastern shore-line, it
follows that more than two-thirds of its area falls
within the jurisdiction of California, the remaining
third being within the boundary of Nevada.
It is only within a comparatively recent period
that the geographical coordinates of this Lake
have been accurately determined.

Its greatest dimension deviates but
slightly from a medium line. Its maximum
length is about 21.6 miles, and its greatest width
is about 12 miles. In consequence of the irregularity
of its outline, it is difficult to estimate its
exact area; but it cannot deviate much from 192
to 195 square miles.

The railroad surveys indicate
that the elevation of the
surface of its waters above
the level of the ocean is about
6247 feet.

Its drainage basin, including in this
its own area, is estimated to be about five hundred
square miles. Probably more than a hundred
affluents of various capacities, deriving their waters
from the amphitheater of snow-clad mountains which
rise on all sides from 3000 to 4000 feet above
its surface, contribute their quota to supply
this Lake. The largest of these affluents
is the Upper Truckee River, which falls into its
southern extremity.

The only outlet to the Lake is the Truckee
River, which carries the surplus waters from a
point on its northwestern shore out through a
magnificent mountain gorge, thence northeast,
through the arid plains of Nevada, into Pyramid Lake.
This river in its tortuous course runs a distance of
over one hundred miles, and for about seventy miles
(from Truckee to Wadsworth) the Central Pacific
Railroad follows its windings. According
to the railroad surveys, this river makes the
following descent:

Page 43

[Footnote 1: The elevation of Pyramid
Lake above the sea-level has never, as far as
we know, been accurately determined. Henry
Gannet, in his Lists of Elevation (4th ed.,
Washington, 1877, p. 143), gives its altitude above
the sea as 4890 feet; and credits this number
to the Pacific Railroad Reports. But
as this exact number appears in Fremont’s Report
of Exploring Expedition to Oregon and North California
in the Years 1843-44. (Doc. No. 166, p. 217),
it is probable that the first rude and necessarily
imperfect estimate has been copied by subsequent
authorities. This number is evidently more
than 800 feet too great; for the railroad station
at Wadsworth (about eighteen or twenty miles from
the lake), where the line of the railroad leaves the
banks of the Truckee River, is only 4077 feet above
the sea-level. So that these numbers would
make Pyramid Lake 813 feet above the level of
its affluent at Wadsworth; which, of course, is
impossible. Under this state of facts, I have
assumed the elevation of this lake to be 3890 feet.]

During the summer of 1873, the writer
embraced the opportunity afforded by a six weeks’
sojourn on the shores of the Lake to undertake
some physical studies in relation to this largest of
the “gems of the Sierra.” Furnished
with a good sounding-line and a self-registering
thermometer, he was enabled to secure some interesting
and trustworthy physical results.

(1.) Depth. It is well known
that considerable diversity of opinion has prevailed
in relation to the actual depth of Lake Tahoe.
Sensational newsmongers have unhesitatingly asserted
that, in some portions, it is absolutely fathomless.
It is needless to say that actual soundings served
to dispel or to rectify this popular impression.
The soundings indicated that there is a deep subaqueous
channel traversing the whole Lake in its greatest
dimension, or south and north. Beginning at
the southern end, near the Lake House, and advancing
along the long axis of the Lake directly north
towards the Hot Springs at the northern end—­a
distance of about eighteen miles—­we have
the following depths:

Station Depth in Feet Depth in Meters

1 ............... 900 274.32

2 ............... 1385 422.14

3 ............... 1495 455.67

4 ............... 1500 457.19

5 ............... 1506 459.02

6 ............... 1540 469.38

7 ............... 1504 458.41

8 ............... 1600 487.67

9 ............... 1640 499.86

Page 44

10 ............... 1645 501.39

These figures show that this lake exceeds
in depth the deepest of the Swiss lakes (the Lake
of Geneva), which has a maximum depth of 334 meters.
On the Italian side of the Alps, however, Lakes
Maggiore and Como are said to have depths respectively
of 796.43 and 586.73 meters. These two lakes
are so little elevated above the sea that their
bottoms are depressed 587 and 374 meters below
the level of the Mediterranean.

(2.) Relation of Temperature to Depth.
By means of a self-registering thermometer (Six’s)
secured to the sounding-line, a great number of
observations were made on the temperature of the
water of the Lake at various depths and in different
portions of the same. These experiments were
executed between the 11th and 18th of August, 1873.
The same general results were obtained in all
parts of the Lake. The following table contains
the abstract of the average results, after correcting
the thermometric indications by comparison with
a standard thermometer:

Obs. in Feet in Meters
F. deg. in C._

1 ...... 0-Surface 0-Surface 67 19.44

2 ...... 50 15.24 63 17.22

3 ...... 100 30.48 55 12.78

4 ...... 150 45.72 50 10.00

5 ...... 200 60.96 48 8.89

6 ...... 250 76.20 47 8.33

7 ...... 300 91.44 46 7.78

8 ...... 330 (Bottom) 100.58 45.5 7.50

9 ...... 400 121.92 45 7.22

10 ...... 480 (Bottom) 146.30 44.5 6.94

11 ...... 500 152.40 44 6.67

12 ...... 600 182.88 43 6.11

13 ...... 772 (Bottom) 235.30 41 5.00

14 ...... 1506 (Bottom) 459.02 39.2 4.00

It will be seen from the foregoing numbers
that the temperature of the water decreases with
increasing depth to about 700 or 800 feet (213
or 244 meters), and below this depth it remains
sensibly the same down to 1506 feet (459 meters).
This constant temperature which prevails at all depths
below say 250 meters is about 4 degrees Cent. (39.2
Fah.). This is precisely what might have been
expected; for it is a well established physical
property of fresh water, that it attains its maximum
density at the above-indicated temperature.
In other words, a mass of fresh water at the temperature
of 4 deg. Cent. has a greater weight under a

Page 45

given volume (that is, a cubic unit of it is heavier
at this temperature) than it is at any temperature
either higher or lower. Hence, when the ice-cold
water of the snow-fed streams of spring and summer
reaches the Lake, it naturally tends to sink as
soon as its temperature rises to 4 deg. Cent.;
and, conversely, when winter sets in, as soon
as the summer-heated surface water is cooled to
4 deg., it tends to sink. Any further rise
of temperature of the surface water during the warm
season, or fall of temperature during the cold season,
alike produces expansion, and thus causes it to
float on the heavier water below; so that water
at 4 deg. Cent., perpetually remains at the
bottom, while the varying temperature of the seasons
and the penetration of the solar heat only influence
a surface stratum of about 250 meters in thickness.
It is evident that the continual outflow of water
from its shallow outlet cannot disturb the mass
of liquid occupying the deeper portions of the
Lake. It thus results that the temperature
of the surface stratum of such bodies of fresh
water for a certain depth fluctuates with the climate
and with the seasons; but at the bottom of deep
lakes it undergoes little or no change throughout
the year, and approaches to that which corresponds
to the maximum density of fresh water.

(3.) Why the Water does not freeze
in Winter. Residents on the shore of
Lake Tahoe testify that, with the exception of
shallow and detached portions, the water of the Lake
never freezes in the coldest winters. During
the winter months, the temperature of atmosphere
about this Lake must fall as low, probably, as
0 degrees Fah. (-17.78 deg. Cent.). According
to the observations of Dr. George M. Bourne, the
minimum temperature recorded during the winter
of 1873-74 was 6 deg. Fah. (-14.44 deg.
Cent.). As it is evident that during the
winter season the temperature of the air must frequently
remain for days, and perhaps weeks, far below the
freezing point of water, the fact that the water
of the Lake does not congeal has been regarded
as an anomalous phenomenon. Some persons
imagine that this may be due to the existence of subaqueous
hot springs in the bed of the Lake—­an opinion
which may seem to be fortified by the fact that
hot springs do occur at the northern extremity
of the Lake. But there is no evidence that
the temperature of any considerable body of water
in the Lake is sensibly increased by such springs.
Even in the immediate vicinity of the hot springs
(which have in summer a maximum temperature of
55 deg. C. or 131 F.), the supply of warm
water is so limited that it exercises no appreciable
influence on the temperature of that portion of the
Lake. This is further corroborated by the fact
that no local fogs hang over this or any other
portion of the Lake during the winter which would
most certainly be the case if any considerable
body of hot water found its way into the Lake.

The true explanation of the phenomenon

Page 46

may, doubtless, be found in the high specific
heat of water, the great depth of the Lake, and
in the agitation of its waters by the strong winds
of winter. In relation to the influence of depth,
it is sufficient to remark that, before the conditions
preceding congelation can obtain, the whole mass
of water—­embracing a stratum of 250
meters in thickness—­must be cooled down
to 4 deg. Cent.; for this must occur before
the vertical circulation is arrested and the colder
water floats on the surface. In consequence
of the great specific heat of water, to cool such
a mass of the liquid through an average temperature
of 8 deg. Cent, requires a long time, and the
cold weather is over before it is accomplished.
In the shallower portions, the surface of the
water may reach the temperature of congelation,
but the agitations due to the action of strong
winds soon breaks up the thin pellicle of ice, which
is quickly melted by the heat generated by the
mechanical action of the waves. Nevertheless,
in shallow and detached portions of the Lake,
which are sheltered from the action of winds and waves—­as
in Emerald Bay—­ice several inches in thickness
is sometimes formed.

[Illustration: Lily Lake]

[Illustration: Cave Rock, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Pyramid Peak and Lake of the Woods]

[Illustration: Clouds Over the Mountain, Lake
Tahoe]

(4.) Why Bodies of the Drowned do
not Rise. A number of persons have been
drowned in Lake Tahoe—­some fourteen between
1860 and 1874—­and it is the uniform testimony
of the residents, that in no case, where the accident
occurred in deep water, were the bodies ever recovered.
This striking fact has caused wonder-seekers to
propound the most extraordinary theories to account
for it. Thus one of them says, “The water
of the Lake is purity itself, but on account of
the highly rarified state of the air it is not
very buoyant, and swimmers find some little fatigue;
or, in other words, they are compelled to keep
swimming all the time they are in the water; and
objects which float easily in other water sink here
like lead.” Again he says, “Not
a thing ever floats on the surface of this Lake,
save and except the boats which ply upon it.”

It is scarcely necessary to remark that
it is impossible that the diminution of atmospheric
pressure, due to an elevation of 6250 feet (1905
meters) above the sea-level, could sensibly affect
the density of the water. In fact, the coefficient
of compressibility of this liquid is so small
that the withdrawal of the above indicated amount
of pressure (about one-fifth of an atmosphere)
would not lower its density more than one hundred-thousandth
part! The truth is, that the specific gravity
is not lower than that of any other fresh water of
equal purity and corresponding temperature.
It is not less buoyant nor more difficult to swim
in than any other fresh water; and consequently
the fact that the bodies of the drowned do not

Page 47

rise to the surface cannot be accounted for by ascribing
marvelous properties to its waters.

The distribution of temperature with
depth affords a natural and satisfactory explanation
of the phenomenon, and renders entirely superfluous
any assumption of extraordinary lightness in the
water. The true reason why the bodies of the drowned
do not rise to the surface is evidently owing to
the fact that when they sink into water which
is only 4 deg. Cent. (7.2 deg. Fah.)
above the freezing temperature, the gases usually
generated by decomposition are not produced in
the intestines; in other words, at this low temperature
the bodies do not become inflated, and therefore
do not rise to the surface. The same phenomenon
would doubtless occur in any other body of fresh
water under similar physical conditions.[2]

[Footnote 2: It should be noted that since 1874
there have been remarkably few deaths from drowning
in Lake Tahoe, and that the major cases of those referred
to by Dr. LeConte were of workmen and others who were
generally under the influence of intoxicants.]

(5.) Transparency of the Water.
All visitors to this beautiful Lake are struck
with the extraordinary transparency of the water.
At a depth of 15 to 20 meters (49.21 to 65.62 feet),
every object on the bottom—­on a calm sunny
day—­is seen with the greatest distinctness.
On the 6th of September, 1873, the writer executed
a series of experiments with the view of testing
the transparency of the water. A number of other
experiments were made August 28 and 29, under less
favorable conditions. By securing a white object
of considerable size—­a horizontally
adjusted dinner-plate about 9.5 inches in diameter—­to
the sounding-line, it was ascertained that (at
noon) it was plainly visible at a vertical depth
of 33 meters, or 108.27 English feet. It must
be recollected that the light reaching the eye
from such submerged objects must have traversed
a thickness of water equal to at least twice the
measured depth; in the above case, it must have
been at least 66 meters, or 216.54 feet. Furthermore,
when it is considered that the amount of light
regularly reflected from such a surface as that of
a dinner-plate, under large angles of incidence
in relation to the surface, is known to be a very
small fraction of the incident beam (probably
not exceeding three or four per cent.), it is
evident that solar light must penetrate to vastly
greater depths in these pellucid waters.

Moreover, it is quite certain that if
the experiments in relation to the depths corresponding
to the limit of visibility of the submerged white
disk had been executed in winter instead of summer,
much larger numbers would have been obtained.
For it is now well ascertained, by means of the researches
of Dr. F.A. Forel of Lausanne, that the waters
of Alpine lakes are decidedly more transparent
in winter than in summer. Indeed, it is reasonable

Page 48

that when the affluents of such lakes are locked
in the icy fetters of winter, much less suspended
matter is carried into them than in summer, when all
the sub-glacial streams are in active operation.

Professor Le Conte goes into this subject (as he later
does into the subject of the color of Lake Tahoe)
somewhat exhaustively in a purely scientific manner
and in too great length for the purposes of this chapter,
hence the scientific or curious reader is referred
to the original articles for further information and
discussion.

Color of the Waters of Lake Tahoe.
One of the most striking features of this charming
mountain Lake is the beautiful hues presented
by its pellucid waters. On a calm, clear,
sunny day, wherever the depth is not less than from
fifty to sixty meters, to an observer floating
above its surface, the water assumes various shades
of blue; from a brilliant Cyan blue (greenish-blue)
to the most magnificent ultramarine blue or deep
indigo blue. The shades of blue increasing
in darkness in the order of the colors of the solar
spectrum, are as follows: Cyan-blue (greenish
blue), Prussian-blue, Cobalt-blue, genuine ultramarine-blue,
and artificial ultramarine-blue (violet blue).
While traversing one portion of the Lake in a
steamer, a lady endowed with a remarkable natural
appreciation and discrimination of shades of color
declared that the exact tint of the water at this
point was “Marie-Louise blue.”

The waters of this Lake exhibit the
most brilliant blueness in the deep portions,
which are remote from the fouling influences of
the sediment-bearing affluents, and the washings of
the shores. On a bright and calm day, when viewed
in the distance, it had the ultramarine hue; but
when looked fair down upon, it was of almost inky
blackness—­a solid dark blue qualified
by a trace of purple or violet. Under these favorable
conditions, the appearance presented was not unlike
that of the liquid in a vast natural dyeing-vat.

A clouded state of the sky, as was to
be expected, produced the well-known effects due
to the diminished intensity of light; the shades
of blue became darker, and, in extreme cases,
almost black-blue. According to our observations,
the obscurations of the sky by the interposition
of clouds produced no other modifications of tints
than those due to a diminution of luminosity.

In places where the depth is comparatively
small and the bottom is visibly white, the water
assumes various shades of green; from a delicate
apple-green to the most exquisite emerald-green.
Near the southern and western shores of the Lake,
the white, sandy bottom brings out the green tints
very strikingly. In the charming cul-de-sac
called “Emerald Bay,” it is remarkably
conspicuous and exquisitely beautiful. In
places where the stratum of water covering white portions
of the bottom is only a few meters in thickness,

Page 49

the green hue is not perceptible, unless viewed
from such a distance that the rays of light emitted
obliquely from the white surface have traversed
a considerable thickness of the liquid before reaching
the eye of the observer.

The experiments with the submerged white
dinner-plate, in testing the transparency of the
water, incidentally manifested, to some extent,
the influence of depth on the color of the water.
The white disk presented a bluish-green tint at
the depth of from nine to twelve meters; at about
fifteen meters it assumed a greenish-blue hue,
and the blue element increased in distinctness
with augmenting depth, until the disk became invisible
or undistinguishable in the surrounding mass of
blue waters. The water intervening between the
white disk and the observer did not present the brilliant
and vivid green tint which characterized that which
is seen in the shallow portions of the Lake, where
the bottom is white. But this is not surprising,
when we consider the small amount of diffused
light which can reach the eye from so limited a surface
of diffusion.

In studying the chromatic tints of these
waters, a hollow pasteboard cylinder, five or
six centimeters in diameter, and sixty or seventy
centimeters in length, was sometimes employed for
the purpose of excluding the surface reflection and
the disturbances due to the small ripples on the
water. When quietly floating in a small row-boat,
one end of this exploring tube was plunged under
the water, and the eye of the observer at the
other extremity received the rays of light emanating
from the deeper portions of the liquid. The light
thus reaching the eye presented essentially the
same variety of tints in the various portions
of the Lake as those which have been previously
indicated.

Hence it appears that under various
condition—­such as depth, purity, state
of sky and color of bottom—­the waters of
this Lake manifest nearly all the chromatic tints
presented in the solar spectrum between greenish-yellow
and the darkest ultramarine-blue, bordering upon
black-blue.

It is well known that the waters of
oceans and seas exhibit similar gradations of
chromatic hues in certain regions. Navigators
have been struck with the variety and richness of
tints presented, in certain portions, by the waters
of the Mediterranean Sea, the Atlantic and Pacific
Oceans, and especially those of the Caribbean
Sea. In some regions of the oceans and seas,
the green hues, and particularly those tinged with
yellow, are observed in comparatively deep waters,
or, at least, where the depths are sufficiently
great to prevent the bottom from being visible.
But this phenomenon seems to require the presence
of a considerable amount of suspended matter in
the water. In no portion of Lake Tahoe did I observe
any of the green tints, except where the light-colored
bottom was visible. This was, probably, owing
to the circumstance that no considerable quantity

Page 50

of suspended matter existed in any of the waters
observed.

Rhythmical Variations of Level in
Lakes: or “Seiches."—­As
might be expected, the waters of Lake Tahoe are
subject to fluctuations of level, depending upon the
variable supplies furnished by its numerous affluents.
In mid-winter, when these streams are bound in
icy fetters, the level falls; while in the months
of May and June, when the snows of the amphitheater
of mountain-slopes are melting most rapidly, the
level of the Lake rises, and a maximum amount of
water escapes through its outlet. According to
the observations of Capt. John McKinney,
made at his residence on the western shore of
this Lake, the average seasonal fluctuation of
level is about 0.61 of a meter; but in extreme seasons
it sometimes amounts to 1.37 meters. The Lake
of Geneva, in like manner, is liable to fluctuations
of level amounting to from 1.95 to 2.60 meters,
from the melting of the Alpine snows.

But besides these variations of level
due to the variable quantities of water discharged
into them by their affluents, many lakes of moderate
dimensions are liable to rhythmical oscillations
of level of short duration, which are, obviously,
but produced by fluctuations in the supply of water.
It is to this kind of species of variation of
level that our attention will be directed in the
sequel.

This interesting phenomenon was first
recognized in the Lake of Geneva; but was subsequently
found to be common to all the Swiss lakes, as
well as to those of Scotland. It is, therefore,
a general phenomenon, which may be observed in all
lakes of moderate dimensions. The inhabitants
of the shores of the Lake of Geneva have long
designated this rhythmical oscillation of the
level of the water by the term of Seiche;
and this designation has been adopted by scientific
writers.

These Seiches were first signalized
in the Lake of Geneva in 1730, by Fatio de Duillier,
who ascribed them to the checking of the flow
of the waters of the Rhone on the shoal near Geneva
by the force of the wind at mid-day. Addison
and Jallabert, in 1742, supposed them to be caused
by sudden increments in the discharge of the affluents,
due to the augmentation in the amount of snow
melted after mid-day; or to the sudden increase
in the flow of the Arve, checking the outflow
of water by the Rhone. Bertrand supposed that
electrified clouds might locally attract and elevate
the waters of the lake, and thus produce oscillations
of level. H.B. de Saussure, in 1799, attributed
the phenomenon to rapid local variations of atmospheric
pressure on different parts of the lake.
J.P.E. Vaucher, in 1802 and 1804, adopted de
Saussure’s explanation, and confirmed it
by many excellent observations. He, moreover,
established that Seiches, more or less
considerable, occur in all the Swiss lakes; and that
they take place at all seasons of the year, and at

Page 51

all times of the day; but, in general, more frequently
in spring and autumn. As regards the cause
of the phenomenon, Vaucher shows how rapid local
alterations of atmospheric pressure would produce
oscillations in the level of the lake, and compares
them to the vibrations of a liquid in a recurved tube
or siphon. Finally, Arago maintained that
Seiches may arise from various causes,
and traced the analogy between them and certain
remarkable oscillations of the sea, including
those arising from earthquakes.

But physical science is indebted to
Professor F.A. Forel, of Lausanne, for the
most complete and exhaustive investigation in
relation to the phenomena of Seiches. This
accomplished physicist began his researches in
1869, and has continued them up to the present
time. He has been able to demonstrate that
these rhythmical oscillations occur in nearly all
the Swiss Lakes (he studied the phenomena in nine of
them), and that they follow in all cases the same
general laws. Those of the Lake of Geneva
have received the most elaborate and prolonged
investigation. In March, 1876, Forel established
a self-registering tide-gauge (limni-metre enregistreur)
on the northern shore of this lake, at Morges;
and, with the cooeperation of P. Plantamour, another
one was installed in June, 1877, at Secheron, near
the city of Geneva, at the southern extremity.
Since these dates, these two instruments have,
respectively, been registering oscillations of
the level of the water of the Lake of Geneva; and
they are so sensitive as to indicate the waves generated
by a steamer navigating the lake at a distance
of ten or fifteen kilometers.

From a most searching investigation
of all the phenomena presented by the Seiches
in the Swiss Lakes, Forel deduces the conclusion
that they are really movements of steady uninodal
oscillations (balanced undulations), in which the
whole mass of water in the lake rhythmically swings
from shore to shore. And, moreover, he shows
that the water oscillates according to the two
principal dimensions of the lake; thus, giving
rise to longitudinal Seiches and transverse
Seiches. They occur in series of tautochronous
oscillations of decreasing amplitude; the first wave
produced by the action of a given cause having a maximum
amplitude.

Causes. The disturbances
of hydrostatic equilibrium which generate Seiches
may be produced by a variety of causes. Among
these, the following may be cited: (a) Sudden
local variations of atmospheric pressure on different
parts of the lake. (b) A descending wind, striking
the surface of the lake over a limited area, (c)
Thunder-storms, hail-storms, and water-spouts;
and especially when the accompanying winds act vertically.
(d) The fall of a large avalanche, or of a land-slide
into the lake. (e) And lastly, earthquakes.

Observations show that the most frequent

Page 52

and evident of these causes are variations of
atmospheric pressure and local storms. With
regard to earthquake shocks as a cause of such fluctuations
of level, it is a singular and significant fact that
since Forel has established the delicate self-registering
apparatus on the shores of the Lake of Geneva,
no less than twelve earthquake shocks have been
experienced in this portion of Switzerland, and
they have had no sensible influence on these sensitive
instruments. In fact, a little consideration
in relation to the character of such shocks renders
it highly improbable that such brief tremors of
the earth’s crust could have been any agency
in the generation of rhythmical oscillations of
the whole mass of water in the lake. Indeed,
it is very questionable whether any earthquake
waves are ever produced in the ocean, except when
the sea-bottom undergoes a permanent vertical
displacement.

Lake Tahoe. From inquiries
made of the inhabitants of the shores of Lake
Tahoe, I was not able to discover that any rhythmical
oscillations of the level of its waters have ever
been noticed. Some residents declared that
they had observed sudden fluctuations of level,
which, from their suddenness, they were disposed
to ascribe to disturbances of the bottom of the
Lake due to volcanic agencies, although they were
unable to coordinate such oscillations with any
earthquake manifestations on the adjacent shores.

It is evident, however, that until arrangements
are consummated for recording systematic observations
on the variations of the level of this Lake, we
cannot expect that its Seiches will be
detected. Of course, self-registering gauges
would give the most satisfactory results; but
any graduated gauge, systematically observed, would
soon furnish evidence of the phenomenon. For the
longitudinal Seiches, “Hot Springs,”
at the northern extremity of the Lake, or “Lake
House,” at the southern end, would be eligible
stations for gauges; and for the transverse Seiches,
Glenbrook, on the eastern shore, or Capt. McKinney’s
on the western margin, would afford good stations.
As far as I am aware, true Seiches have
never been observed in any of the American lakes.
This fact is the more remarkable from the circumstance
that long-continued and careful observations have
been made on the fluctuations of level of several
of the large Canadian lakes, with the view of testing
the possible existence of lunar tides. Perhaps
these lakes may be too large to manifest the uninodal
rhythmical oscillations which have been so successfully
studied by Forel in the smaller lakes of Switzerland.[3]

Be this as it may, there can be no doubt
that Lake Tahoe is a body of water in all respects
adapted for the manifestation of this species
of oscillation; and that, like the Swiss lakes, it
is subject to Seiches. Indeed, the far
greater simplicity in the configuration of the
basin of Lake Tahoe than that of the Lake of Geneva
must render the phenomena much less complicated
in the former than in the latter.

Professor LeConte then gives his computations as to
the probable duration of the oscillations on Lake
Tahoe, should they occur there.

Page 53

[Footnote 3: It is proper to add that Fluctuations
of level in the North American lakes have been
noticed by various observers, from the time of the
Jesuit Fathers of the period of Marquette, in 1673,
down to the present epoch. Among those who have
discussed this problem may be mentioned in chronological
order: Fra Marquette in 1673, Baron La Hontan
1689, Charlevoix 1721, Carver 1766, Weld 1796, Major
S.A. Storrow 1817, Capt. Henry Whiting 1819,
H.R. Schoolcraft 1820, Gen. Dearborn 1826-29.]

CHAPTER VII

HOW LAKE TAHOE WAS FORMED

Lindgren, the geologist, affirms that after the Sierra
Nevada range was thrust up, high into the heavens,
vast and long continued erosion “planed down
this range to a surface of comparatively gentle topography.”
He claims that it must originally have been of great
height. Traces of this eroded range (Cretaceous)
“still remain in a number of flat-topped hills
and ridges that rise above the later tertiary surface.
There is reason to believe that this planed-down mountain
range had a symmetrical structure, for somewhat to
the east of the present divide is a well-marked old
crest line extending from the Grizzly Peak Mountains
on the north, in Plumas County, at least as far south
as Pyramid Peak, in Eldorado County. At sometime
in the later part of the Cretaceous period the first
breaks took place, changing the structure of the range
from symmetrical to monoclinal and outlining the present
form of the Sierra Nevada.”

This great disturbance he thinks, “was of a
two-fold character, consisting of the lifting up of
a large area including at least a part of the present
Great Basin [Nevada and Utah] and a simultaneous breaking
and settling of the higher portions of the arch.
Along the eastern margin a system of fractures was
thus outlined which toward the close of the Tertiary
was to be still further emphasized. The main
break probably extended from a point south of Mono
Lake to Antelope Valley and from Markleeville northward
toward Sierra Valley. A large part of the crust
block to the west of this dislocation also sank down.
This sunken area is now indicated by Lake Tahoe and
by its northward continuation, Sierra Valley, separated
from each other only by masses of Tertiary lavas....
It is worthy of note that within the area of the range
no volcanic eruptions accompanied this subsidence.”

He continues: “As a consequence of this
uplift the erosive power of the streams was rejuvenated,
the Cretaceous surface of gentle outline was dissected,
and the rivers began to cut back behind the old divide,
carrying their heads nearly to the present crest line
that separates the slope of the Sierra from the depression
of Lake Tahoe.”

These rivers are the great gold bearing streams that
caused the mining excitement of 1849. They all
head near the Tahoe region, and include the Yuba,
Feather, American, Mokelumne, Calaveras, Cataract,
and Tuolumne.

Page 54

Here, then, were two crest lines—­the old
Cretaceous line of which the Crystal Range immediately
overlooking Desolation Valley on the west, with Pyramid
and Agassiz Peaks as its salient points,—­and
the new Tertiary crest line, reaching somewhat irregularly
from Honey Lake in the north to Mono Lake in the south.
At the north of Lake Tahoe, “southwest of Reno,
a large andesitic volcano poured forth lavas which
extend between the Truckee River Canyon and the Washoe
Valley. In the region extending northward from
Lake Tahoe to Sierra Valley enormous andesitic eruptions
took place, and the products of these volcanoes are
now piled up as high mountains, among which Mount Pluto
nearly attains 9000 feet.”

These are the volcanic lavas which united the two
crests forming the eastern and western borders of
the Tahoe basin or depression, and through which the
Truckee River had in some way to find passage ere it
could discharge its waters into Pyramid Lake, resting
in the bosom of the Great Basin.

Here, then, we have the crude Tahoe basin ready for
the reception of water. This came from the snow
and rainfall on its large and mountainous drainage
area, a hundred greater and lesser streams directly
and indirectly discharging their flow into its tremendous
gulf.

Its later topography has been materially modified
by glacial action, and this is fully discussed by
Professor Joseph Le Conte in the following chapter.

It should not be forgotten, however, that while Mt.
Pluto was being formed, other vast volcanic outpourings
were taking place. Well back to the west of the
Tahoe region great volcanoes poured out rhyolite,
a massive rock of light gray to pink color and of fine
grain, which shows small crystals of quartz and sanidine
in a streaky and glossy ground mass. On the summits
nearer to Tahoe the volcanic outflows were of andesite,
a rough and porous rock of dark gray to dark brown
color. Lindgren says: “By far the
greater part of the andesite occurs in the form of
a tuffaceous breccia in numerous superimposed flows.
These breccias must have issued from fissures near
the summit of the range and were, either before their
eruption or at the time of issue, mixed with enormous
quantities of water, forming mud flows sufficiently
fluid to spread down the slope for distances of fifty
or sixty miles. The derivation of the water and
the exact mode of eruption are difficult to determine....
Towards the summits the breccias gradually lose their
stratified character and become more firmly cemented.
Over large areas in the Truckee quadrangle the andesite
masses consist of breccias containing numerous dykes
and necks of massive andesite....

Page 55

“The andesite volcanoes were mainly located
along the crest of the Sierra, in fact, almost continuously
from Thompson Peak, west of Honey Lake, down to latitude
38 deg. degrees 10’. Farther south the eruptions
diminished greatly in intensity.... Along the
first summit of the range west of Tahoe the greatest
number of vents are found. Beginning at Webber
Lake on the north, they include Mount Lola, Castle
Peak, Mount Lincoln, Tinker Knob, Mount Mildred and
Twin Peak. The andesite masses here in places
attain a thickness of 2000 feet. An interval
followed in the northern part of the Pyramid Peak quadrangle
where no important volcanoes were located, but they
appear again in full force in Alpine County.
Round Top, attaining an elevation of 10,430 feet,
and the adjacent peaks, were the sources of the enormous
flows which covered a large part of Eldorado County.
Still another volcanic complex with many eruptive
vents is that situated in the western part of Alpine
County, near Markleeville, which culminates in Highland
Peak and Raymond Peak, the former almost reaching
11,000 feet. The total thickness of the volcanic
flows in this locality is as much as 4000 feet.”

It is to these breccias we owe the volcanic appearances
in the Truckee River Canyon, a few miles before reaching
the Lake. There are several layers of the andesites
breccias at the head of Bear Creek Canyon, above Deer
Park Springs.

“None of the craters,” says Lindgren,
“of these volcanoes are preserved, and at the
time of their greatest activity they may have reached
a height of several thousand feet above the present
summits.”

CHAPTER VIII

THE GLACIAL HISTORY OF LAKE TAHOE

We have already seen in the preceding chapter how
the great basin, in which Lake Tahoe rests, was turned
out in the rough from Nature’s workshop.
It must now be smoothed down, its angularities removed,
its sharpest features eliminated, and soft and fertile
banks prepared upon which trees, shrubs, plants and
flowers might spring forth to give beauty to an otherwise
naked and barren scene.

It is almost impossible for one to picture the Tahoe
basin at this time. There may have been water
in it, or there may not. All the great mountain
peaks, most of them, perhaps, much higher by several
thousands of feet than at present, were rude, rough,
jagged masses, fresh from the factory of God.
There was not a tree, not a shrub, not a flower, not
a blade of grass. No bird sang its cheering song,
or delighted the eye with its gorgeous plumage; not
even a frog croaked, a cicada rattled, or a serpent
hissed. All was barren desolation, fearful silence
and ghastly newness.

What were the forces that produced so marvelous a
change?

Snowflakes,—­“flowers of the air",—­as
John Muir so poetically calls them. They accomplished
the work. Falling alone they could have done
nothing, but coming down in vast numbers, day after
day, they piled up and became a power. Snow forms
glaciers, and glaciers are mighty forces that create
things.

Page 56

[Illustration: Gilmore Lake, Pyramid Peak and
the Crystal Range, in winter, from summit of Mount
Tallac]

[Illustration: Desolation Valley, Looking Toward
Mosquito Pass]

[Illustration: Heather Lake, near Glen Alpine]

[Illustration: Susie Lake, near Glen Alpine Springs]

Let us, if possible, stand and watch the Master Workman
doing the work that is to make this region our source
of present day joy. We will make the ascent and
stand on the summit of Pyramid Peak. This is
now 10,020 feet above sea level, rising almost sheer
above Desolation Valley immediately at our feet.

The first thing that arrests the visitor’s attention
is the peculiar shape of the peak upon which he stands,
and of the whole of the Crystal Range. Both east
and west it is a great precipice, with a razor-like
edge, which seems to have been especially designed
for the purpose of arresting the clouds and snow blown
over the mountain, ranges of the High Sierras, and
preventing their contents falling upon the waste and
thirsty, almost desert-areas of western Nevada, which
lie a few miles further east.

Whence do the rains and snow-storms come?

One hundred and fifty miles, a trifle more or less,
to the westward is the vast bosom of the Pacific Ocean.
Its warm current is constantly kissed by the fervid
sun and its water allured, in the shape of mist and
fog, to ascend into the heavens above. Here it
is gently wafted by the steady ocean breezes over
the land to the east. In the summer the wind
currents now and again swing the clouds thus formed
northward, and Oregon and Washington receive rain
from the operation of the sun upon the Pacific Ocean
of the south. In June and July, however, the
Tahoe region sees occasional rains which clear the
atmosphere, freshen the flowers and trees, and give
an added charm to everything. But in the fall
and winter the winds send the clouds more directly
eastward, and in crossing the Sierran summits the
mist and fog become colder and colder, until, when
the clouds are arrested by the stern barriers of the
Crystal Range, and necessity compels them to discharge
their burden, they scatter snow so profusely that
one who sees this region only in the summer has no
conception of its winter appearance. The snow
does not fall as in ordinary storms, but, in these
altitudes, the very heavens seem to press down, ladened
with snow, and it falls in sheets to a depth of five,
ten, twenty, thirty and even more feet, on the
level.

Look now, however, at the western edge of the Crystal
Range. It has no “slopes.” It
is composed of a series of absolute precipices, on
the edge of one of which we stand. These precipices,
and the razor edge, are fortified and buttressed by
arms which reach out westward and form rude crescents,
called by the French geologists cirques, for
here the snow lodges, and is packed to great density
and solidity with all the force, fervor and fury of
the mountain winds.

Page 57

But the snow does not fall alone on the western cirques.
It discharges with such prodigality, and the wind
demands its release with such precipitancy, that it
lodges in equally vast masses on the eastern slopes
of the Crystal Range. For, while the eastern side
of this range is steep enough to be termed in general
parlance “precipitous,” it has a decided
slope when compared with the sheer drop of the western
side. Here the configuration and arrangement of
the rock-masses also have created a number of cirques,
where remnants of the winter’s snow masses are
yet to be seen. These snow masses are baby glaciers,
or snow being slowly manufactured into glaciers, or,
as some authorities think, the remnants of the vast
glaciers that once covered this whole region with
their heavy and slowly-moving icy cap.

On the Tallac Range the snow fell heavily toward Desolation
Valley, but also on the steep and precipitous slopes
that faced the north. So also with the Angora
Range. Its western exposure, however, is of a
fairly gentle slope, so that the snow was blown over
to the eastern side, where there are several precipitous
cirques of stupendous size for the preservation
of the accumulated and accumulating snow.

Now let us, in imagination, ascend in a balloon over
this region and hover there, seeking to reconstruct,
by mental images, the appearance it must have assumed
and the action that took place in the ages long ago.

Snow, thirty, fifty, one hundred or more feet deep
lay, on the level, and on the mountain slopes or in
precipitous cirques twice, thrice, or ten times
those depths. Snow thus packed together soon
changes its character. From the light airy flake,
it becomes, in masses, what the geologists term neve.
This is a granular snow, intermediate between snow
and ice. A little lower down this neve
is converted into true glacial ice-beds, which grow
longer, broader, deeper and thicker as the neve
presses down from above.

Lay minds conceive of these great ice-beds of transformed
snow as inert, immovable bodies. They think the
snow lies upon the surface of the rocks or earth.
The scientific observer knows better. By the very
inertia of its own vast and almost inconceivable weight
the glacier is compelled to move. Imagine the
millions of millions of tons of ice of these sloping
masses, pressing down upon the hundreds of thousands
of tons of ice that lie below. Slowly the mass
begins to move. But all parts of it do not move
with equal velocity. The center travels quicker
than the margins, and the velocity of the surface is
greater than that of the bottom. Naturally the
velocity increases with the slope, and when the ice
begins to soften in the summer time its rate of motion
is increased.

Page 58

But not only does the ice move. There have been
other forces set in motion as well as that of the
ice. The fierce attacks of the storms, the insidious
forces of frost, of expansion and contraction, of
lightning, etc., have shattered and loosened vast
masses of the mountain summits. Some of these
have weathered into toppling masses, which required
only a heavy wind or slight contractions to send them
from their uncertain bases onto the snow or ice beneath.
And the other causes mentioned all had their influences
in breaking up the peaks and ridges and depositing
great jagged bowlders of rock in the slowly-moving
glaciers.

Little by little these masses of rock worked their
way down lower into the ice-bed. Sometime they
must reach the bottom, yet, though they rest upon
granite, and granite would cleave to granite, the
irresistible pressure from above forces the ice and
rock masses forward. Thus the sharp-edged blocks
of granite become the blades in the tools that
are to help cut out the contours of a world’s
surface. In other words the mass of glacial ice
is the grooving or smoothing plane, and the
granite blocks, aided by the ice, become the many
and diverse blades in this vast and irresistible tool.
Some cut deep and square, others with flutings and
bevelings, or curves, but each helps in the great work
of planing off, in some way, the rocky masses over
which they move. Hence it will be seen that the
grooving and marking, the fluting and beveling, the
planing and smoothing processes of the ice are materially
aided and abetted by the very hardness and weight
of the granite and other rocks it carries with it.

Now let Joseph LeConte take up the theme and give
us of the rich treasure-store of his knowledge and
observation. In the American Journal of Science
and Arts, Third Series, for 1875, he discussed
the very field we are now interested in, and his fascinating
and illuminating explanations render the subject perfectly
clear. Said he:

Last summer I had again an opportunity
of examining the pathways of some of the ancient
glaciers of the Sierra. One of the grandest
of these is what I call the Lake Valley Glacier.[1]
Taking its rise in snow fountains among the high
peaks in the neighborhood of Silver Mountain, this
great glacier flowed northward down Lake Valley,
and, gathering tributaries from the summit ridges
on either side of the valley, but especially from
the higher western summits, it filled the basin
of Lake Tahoe, forming a great “mer de glace,”
50 miles long, 15 miles wide, and at least 2000
feet deep, and finally escaped northeastward to
the plains. The outlets of this great “mer
de glace” are yet imperfectly known. A part
of the ice certainly escaped by Truckee Canyon
(the present outlet of the Lake); a part probably
went over the northeastern margin of the basin.
My studies during the summer were confined to some
of the larger tributaries of this great glacier.

[Footnote 1: This is the name given by Dr. LeConte
to the Basin in which Lake Tahoe rests and including
the meadow lands above Tallac.]

Page 59

[Illustration: Pyramid Peak and Lake of the Woods,
near Lake Tahoe, Calif.]

[Illustration: Snow Bank, Desolation Valley,
near Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Grass Lake, near Glen Alpine Springs]

Truckee Canyon and Donner Lake Glaciers.
I have said that one of the outlets of the great
“mer de glace” was by the Truckee
River Canyon. The stage road to Lake Tahoe runs
in this canyon for fifteen miles. In most
parts of the canyon the rocks are volcanic and
crumbling, and therefore ill adapted to retain
glacial marks; yet in some places where the rock is
harder these marks are unmistakable. On my way
to and from Lake Tahoe, I observed that the Truckee
Canyon glacier was joined at the town of Truckee
by a short but powerful tributary, which, taking
its rise in an immense rocky amphitheater surrounding
the head of Donner Lake, flowed eastward.
Donner Lake, which occupies the lower portion of this
amphitheater, was evidently formed by the down-flowing
of the ice from the steep slopes of the upper portion
near the summit. The stage road from
Truckee to the summit runs along the base of a
moraine close by the margin of the lake
on one side, while on the other side, along the
apparently almost perpendicular rocky face of the
amphitheater, 1000 feet above the surface of the
lake, the Central Pacific Railroad winds its fearful
way to the same place. In the upper portion
of this amphitheater large patches of snow still
remain unmelted during the summer.

My examination of these two
glaciers, however, was very
cursory. I hasten on,
therefore, to others which I traced more
carefully.

Lake Tahoe lies countersunk on the very
top of the Sierra. This great range is here
divided into two summit ridges, between which
lies a trough 50 miles long, 20 miles wide, and 3000
to 3500 feet deep. This trough is Lake Valley.
Its lower half is filled with the waters of Lake
Tahoe. The area of this Lake is about 250
square miles, its depth 1640 feet, and its altitude
6200 feet. It is certain that during the
fullness of glacial times this trough was a great
“mer de glace,” receiving tributaries
from all directions except the north. But
as the Glacial Period waned—­as the great
“mer de glace” dwindled and melted away,
and the lake basin became occupied by water instead,
the tributaries still remained as separate glaciers
flowing into the Lake. The tracks of these
lingering small glaciers are far more easily traced
and their records more easily read, than those of the
greater but more ancient glacier of which they
were once but the tributaries.

Of the two summit ridges mentioned above
the western is the higher. It bears the most
snow now, and in glacial times gave origin
to the grandest glaciers. Again: the peaks
on both these summits rise higher and higher as
we go toward the upper or southern end of the
Lake. Hence the largest glaciers ran into

Page 60

the Lake at its southwestern end. And,
since the mountain slopes here are toward the northeast
and therefore the shadiest and coolest, here also
the glaciers have had the greatest vitality and
lived the longest, and have, therefore, left the
plainest records. Doubtless, careful examination
would discover the pathways of glaciers running into
the Lake from the eastern summit also; but I failed
to detect any very clear traces of such, either
on the eastern or on the northern portion of the
western side of the Lake; while between the southwestern
end and Sugar Pine Point, a distance of only eight
or ten miles, I saw distinctly the pathways of five
or six. North of Sugar Pine Point there are also
several. They are all marked by moraine ridges
running down from the summits and projecting as
points into the Lake. The pathways of
three of these glaciers I studied somewhat carefully,
and after a few preliminary remarks, will describe
in some detail.

Mountains are the culminating points
of the scenic grandeur and beauty of the earth.
They are so, because they are also the culminating
points of all geological agencies—­igneous
agencies in mountain formation, aqueous
agencies in mountain sculpture. Now,
I have already said that the mountain peaks which
stand above the Lake on every side are highest
at the southwestern end, where they rise to the
altitude of 3000 feet above the lake surface, or between
9000 and 10,000 feet above the sea. Here, therefore,
ran in the greatest glaciers; here we find the
profoundest glacial sculpturings; and here also
are clustered all the finest beauties of this
the most beautiful of mountain lakes. I need
only name Mount Tallac, Fallen Leaf Lake, Cascade Lake,
and Emerald Bay, all within three or four miles
of each other and of the Tallac House. These
three exquisite little lakes (for Emerald Bay
is also almost a lake), nestled closely against
the loftiest peaks of the western summit ridge, are
all perfect examples of glacial lakes.

South of Lake Tahoe, Lake Valley extends
for fifteen miles as a plain, gently rising southward.
At its lower end it is but a few feet above the
lake surface, covered with glacial drift modified
by water, and diversified, especially on its western
side, by debris ridges, the moraines of glaciers
which continued to flow into the valley or into
the Lake long after the main glacier, of which
they were once tributaries, had dried up.
On approaching the south end of the Lake by steamer,
I had observed these long ridges, divined their
meaning, and determined on a closer acquaintance.
While staying at the Tallac House I repeatedly
visited them and explored the canyons down which
their materials were brought. I proceed to describe
them.

Fallen Leaf Lake Glacier.
Fallen Leaf Lake lies on the plain of Lake Valley,
about one and a half miles from Lake Tahoe, its surface
but a few feet above the level of the latter Lake[2];

Page 61

but its bottom far, probably several hundred feet,
below that level. It is about three to three
and one-half miles long and one and one-fourth
miles wide. From its upper end runs a canyon
bordered on either side by the highest peaks in
this region. The rocky walls of this canyon
terminate on the east side at the head of the
lake, but on the west side, a little farther down.
The lake is bordered on each side by an admirably
marked debris ridge (moraine) three hundred feet
high, four miles long, and one and one-half to
two miles apart. These moraines may be traced
back to the termination of the rocky ridges which bound
the canyon. On one side the moraine lies wholly
on the plain; on the other side its upper part
lies against the slope of Mount Tallac. Near
the lower end of the lake a somewhat obscure branch
ridge comes off from each main ridge, and curving
around it forms an imperfect terminal moraine
through which the outlet of the lake breaks its
way.

[Footnote 2: Professor Price informs me there
is a difference of eighty feet between the level
of Lake Tahoe and Fallen Leaf Lake.]

On ascending the canyon the glaciation
is very conspicuous, and becomes more and more
beautiful at every step. From Glen Alpine
Springs upward it is the most perfect I have ever seen.
In some places the white rocky bottom of the canyon,
for many miles in extent, is smooth and polished
and gently undulating, like the surface of a glassy
but billowy sea. The glaciation is distinct
also up the sides of the canyon 1000 feet above its
floor.

There can be no doubt, therefore, that
a glacier once came down this canyon filling it
1000 feet deep, scooped out Fallen Leaf Lake just
where it struck the plain and changed its angle of
slope, and pushed its snout four miles out on the level
plain, nearly to the present shores of Lake Tahoe,
dropping its debris on either side and thus forming
a bed for itself. In its subsequent retreat
it seems to have rested its snout some time at
the lower end of Fallen Leaf Lake, and accumulated
there an imperfect terminal moraine.

Cascade Lake Glacier. Cascade
Lake, like Fallen Leaf Lake, is about one and
one-half miles from Lake Tahoe, but, unlike Fallen
Leaf Lake, its discharge creek has considerable fall,
and the lake surface is, therefore, probably 100 feet
above the level of the greater lake. On either
side of this creek, from the very border of Lake
Tahoe, runs a moraine ridge up to the lake, and
thence along each side of the lake up to the rocky
points which terminate the true mountain canyon
above the head of the lake. I have never anywhere
seen more perfectly defined moraines. I climbed
over the larger western moraine and found that
it is partly merged into the eastern moraine of
Emerald Bay to form a medial at least 300 feet
high, and of great breadth. From the surface of
the little lake the curving branches of the main
moraine, meeting below the lake to form a terminal

Page 62

moraine, are very distinct. At the head of
the lake there is a perpendicular cliff over which
the river precipitates itself, forming a very
pretty cascade of 100 feet or more. On ascending
the canyon above the head of the lake, for several
miles, I found, everywhere, over the lip of the
precipice, over the whole floor of the canyon,
and up the sides 1000 feet or more, the most perfect
glaciation.

There cannot, therefore, be the slightest
doubt that this also is the pathway of a glacier
which once ran into Lake Tahoe. After coming
down its steep rocky bed, this glacier precipitated
itself over the cliff, scooped out the lake at its
foot, and then ran on until it bathed its snout in
the waters of Lake Tahoe, and probably formed
icebergs there. In its subsequent retreat
it seems to have dropped more debris in its path
and formed a more perfect terminal moraine than did
Fallen Leaf Glacier.

Emerald Bay Glacier. All
that I have said of Fallen Leaf Lake and Cascade
Lake apply, almost word for word, to Emerald Bay.
This beautiful bay, almost a lake, has also been formed
by a glacier. It also is bounded on either side
by moraines, which run down to and even project
into Lake Tahoe, and may be traced up to the rocky
points which form the mouth of the canyon at the
head of the bay. Its eastern moraine, as already
stated, is partly merged into the western moraine
of Cascade Lake, to form a huge medial moraine.
Its western moraine lies partly against a rocky
ridge which runs down to Lake Tahoe to form Rubicon
Point. At the head of the bay, as at the
head of Cascade Lake, there is a cliff about 100 feet
high, over which the river precipitates itself
and forms a beautiful cascade. Over the lip
of this cliff, and in the bed of the canyon above,
and up the sides of the cliff-like walls, 1000
feet or more, the most perfect glaciation is found.
The only difference between this glacier and the
two preceding is, that it ran more deeply into
the main lake and the deposits dropped in its
retreat did not rise high enough to cut off its
little rock basin from that lake, but exists now only
as a shallow bar at the mouth of the bay.
This bar consists of true moraine matter,
i.e., intermingled bowlders and sand, which
may be examined through the exquisitely transparent
water almost as perfectly as if no water were present.
All that I have described separately and in detail,
and much more, may be taken in at one view from
the top of Mount Tallac. From this peak nearly
the whole course of these three glaciers, their
fountain amphitheaters, their canyon beds, and their
lakes enclosed between their moraine arms, may be seen
at once. The view from this peak is certainly
one of the finest that I have ever seen.
Less grand and diversified in mountain forms than
many from peaks above the Yosemite, it has added
beauty of extensive water surface, and the added interest
of several glacial pathways in a limited space.

Page 63

The observer sits on the very edge of the fountain
amphitheaters still holding large masses of snow;
immediately below, almost at his feet, lie glistening,
gem-like, in dark rocky setting, the three exquisite
little lakes; on either side of these, embracing
and protecting them, stretch out the moraine arms,
reaching toward and directing the eye to the great
Lake, which lies, map-like, with all its sinuous
outlines perfectly distinct, even to its extreme
northern end, twenty-five to thirty miles away.
As the eye sweeps again up the canyon-beds, little
lakes, glacier scooped rock basins, filled with ice-cold
water, flash in the sunlight on every side. Twelve
or fifteen of these may be seen.

From appropriate positions
on the surface of Lake Tahoe, also,
all the moraine ridges are
beautifully seen at once, but the
glacial lakes and the canyon-beds,
of course, cannot be seen.

There are several questions
of a general nature suggested by
my examination of these three
glacial pathways, which I have
thought best to consider separately.

a. Evidences of the existence
of the Great Lake Valley Glacier. On
the south shore of Lake Tahoe, and especially at
the northern or lower end of Fallen Leaf Lake, I found
many pebbles and some large bowlders of a beautiful
striped agate-like slate. The stripes consisted
of alternate bands of black and translucent white,
the latter weathering into milk-white, or yellowish,
or reddish. It was perfectly evident that
these fragments were brought down from the canyon above
Fallen Leaf Lake. On ascending this canyon
I easily found the parent rock of these pebbles
and bowlders. the It is a powerful outcropping
ledge of beautifully striped siliceous slate,
full of fissures and joints, and easily broken
into blocks of all sizes, crossing the canyon about
a half mile above the lake. This rock is so
peculiar and so easily identified that its fragments
become an admirable index of the extent of the
glacial transportation. I have, myself, traced
these pebbles only a little way along the western
shores of the great Lake, as my observations were
principally confined to this part; but I learn
from my brother, Professor John LeConte, and from
Mr. John Muir, both of whom have examined the
pebbles I have brought home, that precisely similar
fragments are found in great abundance all along the
western shore from Sugar Pine Point northward,
and especially on the extreme northwestern shore
nearly thirty miles from their source. I
have visited the eastern shore of the Lake somewhat
more extensively than the western, and nowhere did
I see similar pebbles. Mr. Muir, who has
walked around the Lake, tells me that they do
not occur on the eastern shore. We have, then,
in the distribution of these pebbles, demonstrative
evidence of the fact that Fallen Leaf Lake glacier
was once a tributary of a much greater glacier
which filled Lake Tahoe.

Page 64

The only other agency to which we could
attribute this transportation is that of shore
ice and icebergs, which probably did once exist
on Lake Tahoe; but the limitation of the pebbles
to the western, and especially the northwestern shores,
is in exact accordance with the laws of glacial transportation,
but contrary to those of floating ice transportation—­for
lake ice is carried only by winds, and would,
therefore, deposit equally on all shores.

Again: I think I find
additional evidence of a Lake Tahoe
“mer de glace”
in the contrasted character of the northern and
southern shores of this Lake.

All the little glacial lakes described
above are deep at the upper end and shallow at
the lower end. Further, all of them have
a sand beach and a sand flat at the upper end, and
great bowlders thickly scattered in the shallow
water, and along the shore at the lower end.
These facts are easily explained, if we remember
that while the glacial scooping was principally
at the upper end, the glacial droppings
were principally at the lower end. And further:
that while the glacial deposit was principally
at the lower end, the river deposit, since
the glacial epoch, has been wholly at the upper
end.

Now the great Lake, also, has a similar
structure. It also has a beautiful sand and
gravel beach all along its upper shore, and a
sand flat extending above it; while at its lower, or
northern end, thickly strewed in the shallow water,
and along the shore line, and some distance above
the shore line, are found in great abundance bowlders
of enormous size. May we not conclude
that similar effects have been produced by similar
causes—­that these huge bowlders were dropped
by the great glacier at its lower end? Similar
bowlders are also found along the northern portion
of the eastern shore, because the principal flow
of the ice-current was from the southwest, and
in the fulness of glacial times the principal exit
was over the northeastern lip of the basin.

b. Origin of Lake Tahoe.
That Lake Tahoe was once wholly occupied by ice,
I think, is certain; but that it was scooped out
by the Lake Valley glacier is perhaps more doubtful.
All other Sierra lakes which I have seen certainly
owe their origin to glacial agency. Neither
do I think we should be staggered by the size
or enormous depth of this Lake. Yet, from
its position, it may be a plication-hollow, or
a trough produced by the formation of two parallel
mountain ridges, and afterward modified by glacial
agency, instead of a pure glacial-scooped rock-basin.
In other words, Lake Valley, with its two summit
ridges, may be regarded as a phenomenon belonging
to the order of mountain-formation and not to the
order of mountain sculpture. I believe
an examination of the rocks of the two summit
ridges would probably settle this. In the
absence of more light than I now have, I will not
hazard an opinion.[3]

[Footnote 3: This question practically has been
settled by Mr.
Lindgren, and his conclusions are given in an
earlier chapter.]

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c. Passage of slate into granite.
From the commencement of the rocky canyon at the
head of Fallen Leaf Lake, and up for about two
miles, the canyon walls and bed are composed of
slate. The slate, however, becomes more
and more metamorphic as we go up, until it passes
into what much resembles trap. In
some places it looks like diorite and in
others like porphyry. I saw no evidence,
however, of any outburst. This latter rock passes
somewhat more rapidly into granite at Glen
Alpine Springs. From this point the canyon
bed and lower walls are granite, but the highest
peaks are still a dark, splintery, metamorphic
slate. The glacial erosion has here cut through
the slate and bitten deep into the underlying granite.
The passage from slate through porphyritic diorite
into granite may, I think, be best explained by
the increasing degree of metamorphism, and at
the same time a change of the original sediments
at this point; granite being the last term of metamorphism
of pure clays, or clayey sandstones, while bedded
diorites are similarly formed from ferruginous
and calcareous slates. Just at the junction
of the harder and tougher granite with the softer
and more jointed slates, occur, as might be expected,
cascades in the river. It is probable that the
cascades at the head of Cascade Lake and Emerald
Bay mark, also, the junction of the granite with
the slate—­only the junction here is
covered with debris. Just at the same junction,
in Fallen Leaf Lake Canyon (Glen Alpine Basin), burst
out the waters of Glen Alpine Springs, highly charged
with bicarbonates of iron and soda.

d. Glacial Deltas.
I have stated that the moraines of Cascade Lake
and Emerald Bay glaciers run down to the margin of
Lake Tahoe. An examination of this portion of
the Lake shore shows that they run far into
the Lake—­that the Lake has been
filled in, two or three miles, by glacial debris.
On the eastern margin of Lake Tahoe, the water, close
along the shore, is comparatively shallow, the
shore rocky, and along the shore-line, above and
below the water, are scattered great bowlders,
probably dropped by the main glacier. But
on the west margin of the Lake the shoreline is composed
wholly of moraine matter, the water very deep close
to shore, and the bottom composed of precisely
similar moraine matter. In rowing along the
shore, I found that the exquisite ultramarine
blue of the deep water extends to within 100 to 150
feet of the shore-line. At this distance, the
bottom could barely be seen. Judging from
the experiments of my brother, Professor John
Le Conte, according to which a white object could
be seen at a depth of 115 feet, I suppose the depth
along the line of junction of the ultramarine
blue and the emerald green water is at least 100
feet. The slope of the bottom is, therefore,
nearly, or quite, 45 degrees. It seems, in fact,
a direct continuation beneath the water of the

Page 66

moraine slope. The materials, also, which
may be examined with ease through the wonderfully
transparent water, are exactly the same as that composing
the moraine, viz: earth, pebbles, and bowlders
of all sizes, some of them of enormous dimensions.
It seems almost certain that the margin of
the great Lake Valley glacier, and of the Lake
itself when this glacier had melted and the tributaries
first began to run into the Lake, was the series
of rocky points at the head of the three little lakes,
about three or four miles back from the present
margin of the main Lake; and that all lakeward
from these points has been filled in and made
land by the action of the three glaciers described.
At that time Rubicon Point was a rocky promontory,
projecting far into the Lake, beyond which was another
wide bay, which has been similarly filled in by debris
brought down by glaciers north of this point.
The long moraines of these glaciers are plainly
visible from the Lake surface; but I have not
examined them. Thus, all the land, for three
or four miles back from the Lake-margin, both north
and south of Rubicon Point, is composed of confluent
glacial deltas, and on these deltas the moraine
ridges are the natural levees of these
ice-streams.

e. Parallel Moraines.
The moraines described above are peculiar and
almost unique. Nowhere, except about Lake Tahoe
and near Lake Mono, have I seen moraines in the
form of parallel ridges lying on a level
plain and terminating abruptly without any
signs of transverse connection (terminal moraine)
at the lower end. Nor have I been able
to find any description of similar moraines in other
countries. They are not terminal moraines,
for the glacial pathway is open below. They
are not lateral moraines, for these are borne
on the glacier itself, or else stranded on the deep
canyon sides. Neither do I think moraines of this
kind would be formed by a glacier emerging from
a steep narrow canyon and running out on a level
plain; for in such cases, as soon as the confinement
of the bounding walls is removed, the ice stream
spreads out into an ice lake. It does
so as naturally and necessarily as does water under
similar circumstances. The deposit would be
nearly transverse to the direction of the motion,
and, therefore, more or less crescentic.
There must be something peculiar in the conditions
under which these parallel ridges were formed.
I believe the conditions were as described below.

We have already given reason to think
that the original margin of the Lake, in glacial
times, was three or four miles back from the present
margin, along the series of rocky points against
which the ridges abut; and that all the flat plain
thence to the present margin is made land.
If so, then it is evident that at that time the
three glaciers described ran far out into the
Lake, until reaching deep water, where they formed
icebergs. Under these conditions, it is plain

Page 67

that the pressure on this, the subaqueous portion
of the glacial bed, would be small, and become
less and less until it becomes nothing at the
point where the icebergs float away. The pressure
on the bed being small, not enough to overcome the
cohesion of ice, there would be no spreading. A
glacier running down a steep narrow canyon and
out into the deep water, and forming icebergs
at its point, would maintain its slender, tongue-like
form, and drop its debris on each side, forming
parallel ridges, and would not form a terminal moraine
because the materials not dropped previously would
be carried off by icebergs. In the subsequent
retreat of such a glacier, imperfect terminal
moraines might be formed higher up, where the
water is not deep enough to form icebergs. It
is probable, too, that since the melting of the
great “mer de glace” and the formation
of the Lake, the level of the water has gone down
considerably, by the deepening of the Truckee Canyon
outlet by means of erosion. Thus not only did
the glaciers retreat from the Lake, but also the
Lake from the glaciers.

As already stated, similar parallel
moraine ridges are formed by the glaciers which
ran down the steep eastern slope of the Sierras,
and out on the level plains of Mono. By far the
most remarkable are those formed by Bloody most
Canyon Glacier, described by me in a former paper.
These moraines are six or seven miles long, 300
to 400 feet high, and the parallel crests not
more than a mile asunder. There, also, as
at Lake Tahoe, we find them terminating abruptly in
the plain without any sign of terminal moraine.
But higher up there are small, imperfect, transverse
moraines, made during the subsequent retreat,
behind which water has collected, forming lakes
and marshes. But observe: these moraines
are also in the vicinity of a great lake;
and we have abundant evidence, in very distinct
terraces described by Whitney[4] and observed
by myself, that in glacial times the water
stood at least six hundred feet above the present
level. In fact, there can be no doubt
that at that time the waters of Mono Lake (or
a much greater body of water of which Mono is
the remnant) washed against the bold rocky points
from which the debris ridges start. The glaciers
in this vicinity, therefore, must have run
out into the water six or seven miles, and doubtless
formed icebergs at their point, and, therefore,
formed there no terminal moraine.

[Footnote 4: Geological Survey of California,
Vol. I, 451.]

That the glaciers described about Lake
Tahoe and Lake Mono ran out far into the water
and formed icebergs I think is quite certain,
and that parallel moraines open below are characteristic
signs of such conditions I also think nearly certain.

f. Glacial Erosion.
My observations on glacial pathways in the High
Sierra, and especially about Lake Tahoe, have greatly
modified my views as to the nature of glacial erosion.

Page 68

Writers on this subject seem to regard glacial
erosion as mostly, if not wholly, a grinding
and scoring; the debris of this erosion
as rock-meal; the great bowlders, which are found
in such immense quantities in the terminal deposit,
as derived wholly from the crumbling cliffs above the
glacial surface; the rounded bowlders, which
are often the most numerous, as derived in precisely
the same way, only they have been engulfed by
crevasses, or between the sides of the glacier
and the bounding wall, and thus carried between the
moving ice and its rocky bed, as between the upper
and nether millstone. In a word, all bowlders,
whether angular or rounded, are supposed to owe
their origin or separation and shaping
to glacial agency.

Now, if such be the true view of glacial
erosion, evidently its effect in mountain sculpture
must be small indeed. Roches moutonnees
are recognized by all as the most universal and
characteristic sign of a glacial bed. Sometimes
these beds are only imperfect moutonnees,
i.e., they are composed of broken angular
surface with only the points and edges planed
off. Now, moutonnees surfaces always,
and especially angular surfaces with only points and
edges beveled, show that the erosion by grinding
has been only very superficial. They show
that if the usual view of glacial erosion be correct,
the great canyons, so far from being formed,
were only very slightly modified by glacial
agency. But I am quite satisfied from my own
observations, that this is not the only nor the
principal mode of glacial erosion. I am
convinced that a glacier, by its enormous pressure
and resistless onward movement, is constantly
breaking off large blocks from its bed and
bounding walls. Its erosion is not only a grinding
and scoring, but also a crushing and breaking.
It makes by its erosion not only rock-meal, but
also large rock-chips. Thus, a glacier
is constantly breaking off blocks and making angular
surfaces, and then grinding off the angles both
of the fragments and the bed, and thus forming rounded
bowlders and moutonnees surfaces. Its erosion
is a constant process of alternate rough hewing
and planing. If the rock be full of fissures,
and the glacier deep and heavy, the rough hewing
so predominates that the plane has only time to
touch the corners a little before the rock is
again broken and new angles formed. This is the
case high up on the canyon walls, at the
head of Cascade Lake and Emerald Bay, but also
in the canyon beds wherever the slate is approached.
If, on the other hand, the rock is very hard and
solid, and the glacier be not very deep and heavy,
the planing will predominate over the rough hewing,
and a smooth, gentle billowy surface is the result.
This is the case in the hard granite forming the
beds of all the canyons high up, but especially
high up the canyon of Fallen Leaf Lake (Glen Alpine

Page 69

Basin), where the canyon spreads out and extensive
but comparatively thin snow sheets have been at
work. In some cases on the cliffs,
subsequent disintegration of a glacier-polished
surface may have given the appearance of angular
surfaces with beveled corners; but, in other cases,
in the bed of the canyon, and on elevated
level places, where large loosened blocks could
not be removed by water nor by gravity, I observed
the same appearances, under conditions which forbid
this explanation. Mr. Muir, also, in his Studies
in the Sierra, gives many examples of undoubted
rock-breaking by ancient glaciers.

Angular blocks are mostly, therefore,
the ruins of crumbling cliffs, borne on the surface
of the glacier and deposited at its foot.
Many rounded bowlders also have a similar
origin, having found their way to the bed of the glacier
through crevasses, or along the sides of the glacier.
But most of the rounded bowlders in the
terminal deposit of great glaciers are
fragments torn off by the glacier itself.
The proportion of rounded bowlders—­of upper
or air-formed—­to nether or glacier-formed
fragments, depends on the depth and extent of
the ice-current. In the case of the universal
ice-sheet (ice-flood) there are, of course, no
upper formed or angular blocks at all—­there
is nothing borne on the surface. The moraine,
therefore, consists wholly of nether-formed and
nether-borne severely triturated materials (moraine
profunde). The bowlders are, of course,
all rounded. This is one extreme. In the
case of the thin moving ice-fields, the glacierets
which still linger among the highest peaks and
shadiest hollows of the Sierra, on the other hand,
the moraines are composed wholly of angular
blocks. This is the character of the terminal
moraine of Mount Lyell glacier. These glacierets
are too thin and feeble and torpid to break off
fragments—­they can only bear
away what falls on them. This is the other
extreme. But in the case of ordinary glaciers—­ice-streams—­the
bowlders of the terminal deposit are mixed; the
angular or upper-formed predominating in the small
existing glaciers of temperate climates, but the rounded
or nether-formed greatly predominating in the grand
old glaciers of which we have been speaking.
In the terminal deposits of these, especially in the
materials pushed into the Lake, it is somewhat
difficult to find a bowlder which has not been
subjected to severe attrition.

CHAPTER IX

THE LESSER LAKES OF THE TAHOE REGION AND HOW THEY WERE FORMED

This is not to be a description of the scores of Glacial
Lakes found in the Tahoe region, but an answer to
the questions so often asked about practically all
of these lakes, as to their origin and continuance.

Rich as our Sierras are in treasures none are more
precious than these. They give one pleasing surprises,
often when least expected. For while the tree-clusters,
the mountain-peaks, and the glowing snow-banks throw
themselves into our view by their elevated positions,
the retiring lakes, secluded, modest, hide their beauty
from us until we happen to climb up to, or above,
them.

Page 70

From the higher summits how wonderfully they appear.
Let the eye follow a fruitful branch of an apple,
pear or peach. How the leaves, the stem, the
fruit occur, in sure but irregular order. It is
just so with the glacial lakes of the Sierras.
They are the fruit of the streams that flow from the
glacial fountains. They lie on rude and unexpected
granite shelves,—­as Le Conte Lake; under
the shadow of towering peaks,—­as Gilmore
Lake; on bald glacier-gouged and polished tables,—­as
those of Desolation Valley; embosomed in deep woods,—­as
Fallen Leaf, Heather and Cascade; in the rocky recesses
of sloping canyons,—­as Susie, Lucile and
the Angoras; hidden in secret recesses of giant granite
walls,—­as Eagle; or sprawling in the open,—­as
Loon, Spider, etc.

What a variety of sizes, shapes and characteristics
they present. There are no two alike, yet they
are nearly all one in their attractive beauty, in
the purity of their waters, and in the glory, majesty,
sublimity and beauty mirrored on their placid faces.

In poetic fashion, yet with scientific accuracy, John
Muir thus describes their origin in his Mountains
of California, a book every Tahoe lover should
possess:

When a mountain lake is born,—­when,
like a young eye, it first opens to the light,—­it
is an irregular, expressionless crescent, inclosed
in banks of rock and ice,—­bare, glaciated
rock on the lower side, the rugged snout of a glacier
on the upper. In this condition it remains
for many a year, until at length, toward the end
of some auspicious cluster of seasons, the glacier
recedes beyond the upper margin of the basin, leaving
it open from shore to shore for the first time, thousands
of years after its conception beneath the glacier
that excavated its basin. The landscape, cold
and bare, is reflected in its pure depths; the
winds ruffle its glassy surface, and the sun thrills
it with throbbing spangles, while its waves begin
to lap and murmur around its leafless shores,—­sun-spangles
during the day and reflected stars at night its
only flowers, the winds and the snow its only visitors.
Meanwhile, the glacier continues to recede, and numerous
rills, still younger than the lake itself, bring down
glacier-mud, sand-grains, and pebbles, giving rise
to margin-rings and plats of soil. To these
fresh soil-beds come many a waiting plant.
First, a hardy carex with arching leaves and a
spike of brown flowers; then, as the seasons grow
warmer, and the soil-beds deeper and wider, other
sedges take their appointed places, and these
are joined by blue gentians, daisies, dodecatheons,
violets, honey-worts, and many a lowly moss.
Shrubs also hasten in time to the new gardens,—­kalmia
with its glossy leaves and purple flowers, the
arctic willow, making soft woven carpets, together
with the healthy bryanthus and cassiope, the fairest
and dearest of them all. Insects now enrich
the air, frogs pipe cheerily in the shallows, soon
followed by the ouzel, which is the first bird

Page 71

to visit a glacier lake, as the sedge is the first
of plants. So the young lake grows in beauty,
becoming more and more humanly lovable from century
to century. Groves of aspen spring up, and
hardy pines, and the hemlock spruce, until it is
richly overshadowed and embowered. But while its
shores are becoming enriched, the soil-beds creep
out with incessant growth, contracting its area,
while the lighter mud-particles deposited on the
bottom cause it to grow shallower, until at length
the last remnant of the lake vanishes,—­closed
forever in ripe and natural old age. And
now its feeding-stream goes winding on without
halting through the new gardens and groves that
have taken its place.

The length of the life of any lake depends
ordinarily upon the capacity of its basin, as
compared with the carrying power of the streams
that flow into it, the character of the rocks over
which these streams flow, and the relative position
of the lake toward other lakes. In a series
whose basins lie in the same canyon, and are fed
by one and the same main stream, the uppermost
will, of course, vanish first unless some other lake-filling
agent comes in to modify the result; because at first
it receives nearly all of the sediments that the stream
brings down, only the finest of the mud-particles
being carried through the highest of the series
to the next below. Then the next higher,
and the next would be successively filled, and
the lowest would be the last to vanish. But this
simplicity as to duration is broken in upon in
various ways, chiefly through the action of side-streams
that enter the lower lakes direct. For, notwithstanding
many of these side tributaries are quite short,
and, during late summer, feeble, they all become
powerful torrents in spring-time when the snow
is melting, and carry not only sand and pine-needles,
but large trunks and bowlders tons in weight,
sweeping them down their steeply inclined channels
and into the lake basins with astounding energy.
Many of these side affluents also have the advantage
of access to the main lateral moraines of the vanished
glacier that occupied the canyon, and upon these they
draw for lake-filling material, while the main
trunk stream flows mostly over clean glacier pavements,
where but little moraine matter is ever left for
them to carry. Thus a small rapid stream
with abundance of loose transportable material within
its reach may fill up an extensive basin in a few centuries,
while a large perennial trunk stream, flowing over
clean, enduring pavements, though ordinarily a
hundred times larger, may not fill a smaller basin
in thousands of years.

Page 72

Many striking examples of these successive processes
may be seen in the Tahoe region, as, for instance,
Squaw Valley, which lies between the spurs of Squaw
Peak and Granite Chief. This was undoubtedly
scooped out by a glacier that came down from Squaw
Peak and Granite Chief. The course of the ice-sheet
was down to the Truckee River. When the glacier
began to shrink it left its terminal moraine as a
dam between the basin above and the river below.
In due time, as the glacier finally receded to a mere
bank of half-glacierized snow on the upper portions
of the two peaks, the basin filled up with water and
thus formed a lake. Slowly the sand and rocky
debris from the peaks filled up the lake, and in the
course of time a break was made in the moraine, so
that the creek flowed over or through it and the lake
ceased to exist, while the meadow came into existence.

CHAPTER X

DONNER LAKE AND ITS TRAGIC HISTORY

Closely allied to Lake Tahoe by its near proximity,
its situation on the Emigrant Gap automobile road
from Sacramento to Tahoe, and that it is seen from
Mt. Rose, Mt. Watson, and many Tahoe peaks,
is Dormer Lake,—­lake of tragic memories
in the early day pioneer history of this region.

It was in 1846 that James T. Reed, of Springfield,
Ill., determined to move to California. This
land of promise was then a Mexican province, but Reed
carefully and thoroughly had considered the question
and had decided that, for his family’s good,
it was well to emigrate. He induced two other
Illinois families to accompany him, those of George
and Jacob Donner. Thursday, April 15th, 1846,
the party started, full of high hopes for the future.
The story of how they met with others bound for California
or Oregon, at Independence, Mo., journeyed together
over the plains and prairies to Fort Hall, where Lansford
W. Hastings, either in person or by his “Open
Letter,” led part of the band to take his new
road, which ultimated in dire tragedy, is well known.

The Oregon division of the divided party took the
right-hand trail, while the other took the left-hand
to Fort Bridger. It is the experiences of this
latter party with which we are concerned. Misfortune
came to them thick and fast from this time on.
The wagons were stalled in Weber Canyon and had to
be hauled bodily up the steep cliffs to the plateau
above; some of their stock ran away, after heartbreaking
struggles over the Salt Lake desert; mirages intensified
their burning thirst by their disappointing lure; Indians
threatened them, and finally, to add despair to their
wretchedness, a quarrel arose in which Mr. Reed, in
self-defence, killed one of the drivers, named Snyder.
Reed was banished from the party under circumstances
of unjustifiable severity which amounted to inhuman
cruelty, and his wife and helpless children, the oldest
of them, Virginia, only twelve years of age, had to
take the rest of the journey without the presence of

Page 73

their natural protector. Food supplies began to
give out, the snow fell earlier than usual and added
to their difficulties, and before they reached the
region of the Truckee River they were compelled to
go on short rations. Then, under suspicious circumstances
one of the party, Wolfinger, was lost, and though
his wife was informed that he had been murdered by
Indians, there was always a doubt in the minds of
some as to whether that explanation were the true one.
On the 19th of October, an advance guard that had
gone on to California for food, returned, bringing
seven mules ladened with flour and jerked beef.
The story of this trip I have recounted more fully
in the book Heroes of California. Without
this additional food the party never could have survived.
On the 22nd they crossed the Truckee River for the
forty-ninth time.

Heavy snow now began to intercept their weary way.
They were finally compelled to take refuge in an abandoned
cabin near the shore of what is now known as Donner
Lake, and there, under circumstances of horror and
terror that can never fully be comprehended and appreciated,
the devoted men, women and children were imprisoned
in the snow until the first relief party reached them,
February 19th, with scant provisions, brought in at
life’s peril on snowshoes. A “Forlorn
Hope” had tried to force its passage over the
snowy heights. Fifteen brave men and women determined
to see if they could not win their way over and send
back help. Out of the fifteen seven only survived
and reached the Sacramento Valley, and they were compelled
to sustain life by eating the flesh of those who had
perished.

The second relief party was organized by Mr. Reed,—­the
banished leader—­and thirty-one of the party
were still in camp at Donner Lake when he arrived,
with nine stalwart men to help, on March 1st.
On the 3rd nine of them left, with seventeen of the
starving emigrants, but they were caught in a fearful
snow-storm as they crossed the summit, and ten miles
below were compelled to go into camp. Their provisions
gave out, Mrs. Graves died, leaving an emaciated babe
in arms and three other children, one a five-year-old,
who died the next day. Isaac Donner died the
third night. Reed and Greenwood, carrying Reed’s
two children, Mattie and James Jr., with one of the
survivors who could walk, now struggled down the mountain
in the hope that they could reach help to go back
and finish the rescue work. These met Mr. Woodworth
who organized the third relief party, of seven men,
who returned to “Starved Camp,” to find
the survivors begging piteously for something to eat.
This relief party divided into two parts—­one
to go over the summit to give help to the needy there,
the other to get the “Starved Camp” remnant
to safety. The first section succeeded in their
mission of mercy and a few days later caught up with
the other section from Starved Camp.

Mr. C.F. McGlashan, formerly editor of the Truckee
Republican, has written a graphic account, with
great care and desire for accuracy, of the complete
expedition, which gives the heart-rending story with
completeness, and I expect to publish ere long the
personal story of Virginia Reed Murphy, who is still
alive, one of the few survivors of the ill-fated party.

Page 74

[Illustration: The Steamer at the Wharf, Tahoe
Tavern, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Donner Lake, on the Automobile
Highway from Sacramento to Truckee and Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: The Canyon of the Truckee River
in Winter]

[Illustration: Automobiling along the Picturesque
Truckee River, on the way to Lake Tahoe]

Through privations and hardships untold the survivors
were ultimately enabled to reach Sutter’s Fort,
only to find the most vile and fearful stories set
in circulation about them. Four separate relief
parties were sent from California, and their adventures
were almost as tragic as those of the sufferers they
sought to help. Bret Harte, in his Gabriel
Conroy, has told much—­though in the
exaggerated and unjust form the stories were first
circulated—­of the Donner tragedy, and it
has been made the subject of much newspaper and other
writing and discussion.

An unusual trip that can be taken from Tahoe Tavern
is down to the foot of Donner Lake and then, turning
to the left, follow the old emigrant and stage-road.
It has not been used for fifty years, but it is full
of interest. There are many objects that remain
to tell of its fascinating history. Over it came
many who afterwards became pioneers in hewing out
this new land from the raw material of which lasting
commonwealths are made. Turning south to Cold
Stream, it passes by Summit Valley on to Starved Camp.
The stumps of the trees cut down by the unfortunate
pioneers are still standing.

It was always a difficult road to negotiate, the divide
between Mt. Lincoln and Anderson Peak being over
7500 feet high. But those heroes of 1848-49 made
it, triumphing over every barrier and winning for
themselves what Joaquin Miller so poetically has accorded
them, where he declares that “the snow-clad
Sierras are their everlasting monuments.”

This road is now, in places, almost obliterated.
One section for three miles is grown up. Trees
and chaparral cover it and hide it from the face of
any but the most studiously observant. When the
road that takes to the north of Donner Lake was built
in 1861-62 and goes directly and on an easier grade
by Emigrant Gap to Dutch Flat, this road by Cold Stream
was totally abandoned. For years the county road
officials have ignored its existence, and now it is
as if it never had been, save for its memories and
the fragments of wagons, broken and abandoned in the
fierce conflict with stern Nature, and suggesting
the heart-break and struggle the effort to reach California
caused in those early days.

CHAPTER XI

LAKE TAHOE AND THE TRUCKEE RIVER

As is well known, the Truckee River is the only outlet
to Lake Tahoe. This outlet is on the northwest
side of the Lake, between Tahoe City and Tahoe Tavern,
and is now entirely controlled by the concrete dam
and head-gates referred to in the chapter on “Public
uses of the Water of Lake Tahoe.”

Page 75

When Fremont came down from Oregon in 1844, he named
the river Salmon Trout River, from the excellent
fish found therein, but the same year, according to
Angel, in his History of Nevada, a party of
twenty-three men, enthused by the glowing accounts
they had heard of California, left Council Bluffs,
May 20th, crossed the plains in safety, and reached
the Humboldt River. Here an Indian, named Truckee,
presented himself to them and offered to become their
guide. After questioning him closely, they engaged
him, and as they progressed, found that all his statements
were verified. He soon became a great favorite
among them, and when they reached the lower crossing
of the river (now Wadsworth), they were so pleased
by the pure water and the abundance of the fish to
which he directed them, that they named the stream
“Truckee” in his honor.

This Capt. Truckee was the chief of the Paiutis,
and the father of Winnemucca (sometimes known as Poito),
and the grandfather of Sarah Winnemucca Hopkins, long
known in Boston and other eastern cities, where she
lectured under the patronage of Mrs. Horace Mann, Mrs.
Ole Bull, Miss Longfellow, and other prominent women,
as the Princess Sallie. When I first went to
Nevada, over thirty-three years ago, I soon got to
know her and her father, Winnemucca, and met them
constantly.

Sarah always claimed that Truckee and Fremont were
great friends and that it was the Pathfinder who named
the river after her grandfather, but nowhere in his
Report of the 1843-44 Expedition does he mention
Truckee, and he called the river the “Salmon
Trout River”; and this name he retained both
in the report and map published in his Memoirs
of My Life, Vol. I only of which was issued
by Belford, Clarke and Company, of Chicago, in 1887.

Hence Sallie is undoubtedly mistaken in this regard.
But on several points she is correct, and too great
emphasis cannot be laid upon these facts. They
are, I, that Truckee guided several emigrant parties,
even as far as Sutter’s Fort, California (where
Sacramento, the Capital of the State, now stands);
II, that he was always friendly, true and honest in
his dealings with the whites; III, that had the emigrants
and settlers in Nevada treated him as honestly as he
did them there would never have been any conflicts
between the Paiutis and the whites; IV, that when
the latter first came to the country he called councils
of his people and bade them welcome the newcomers with
open arms.

He died just as the wrongs inflicted upon the Paiutis
were making them desperate and resolved on war.
Though his son, Winnemucca, is well known never openly
to have waged war against the whites, it was thoroughly
understood that secretly he favored it. But had
his father lived and retained his health and power
there is little doubt but that the open conflict would
have been averted, and many precious human lives on
both sides saved.

Page 76

The Truckee River has its rise in Lake Tahoe, flows
northward and breaks through the Mount Pluto ridge
in a narrow canyon, one thousand to two thousand feet
in depth. While the canyon is narrow and its
slopes, especially on the east, are rocky and steep,
it is not exactly gorge-like, except for the space
of a mile or so, a short distance below Tahoe.
For twelve miles the river follows a northerly course,
and it is then joined by Donner Creek flowing from
Donner Lake. The united streams then turn eastward
and take a course across the northern end of the gravelly
flat of Martis Valley, in a channel two hundred to
two-hundred-fifty feet below the level of the plain.
At Boca it cuts through the eastern range with a canyon
one thousand to three thousand five hundred feet in
depth and emerges on the plains of Nevada between
Verdi and Reno. It returns again to the north
below Wadsworth, having run sixty-nine miles from
Donner Creek, and then, flowing sixteen more miles,
it discharges into Pyramid Lake. At Tahoe the
river begins at an elevation of 6,225 feet above sea
level; at Pyramid the level is 4,890 feet, thus giving
the river a fall of 1,335 feet in ninety-seven miles.

The Truckee River receives a number of large tributaries;
the principal ones being Little Truckee River and
Prosser Creek, the former heading in Webber Lake,
the latter in the main range of the Sierras, most
of its sources lying in small lakes held in hollows
and basins excavated by glaciers.

Until it was contaminated by the refuse of civilization
its waters were pure and healthful, but legal enactments
have been necessary to protect the stream from sawdust
and other pollutions.

As elsewhere explained the Truckee River being the
only outlet of Lake Tahoe, and therefore its natural
outflow channel, together with the facts that its
origin is in California and it then flows into Nevada,
and that part of Lake Tahoe is in each state, has helped
complicate the solution of the question as to who
is entitled to the surplus waters of the Lake.
This is discussed somewhat in a later chapter devoted
to the subject.

It may be interesting to recall that in 1900 Mr. A.W.
Von Schmidt, President of the Lake Tahoe and San
Francisco Water Works, offered to sell to the
City of San Francisco certain rights to the water
of Lake Tahoe, the dam at the outlet, contract for
a deed to two and a half acres of land on which the
outlet dam was constructed, a diverting dam in the
Truckee River, a patent to the land (forty acres)
on which this land stood, and the maps and surveys
for a complete line conveying the water of Lake Tahoe
to the city of the Golden Gate. He offered to
construct this line, including a tunnel through the
Sierra Nevadas, and deliver thirty million gallons
of water daily, for $17,960,000. If a double
line, or a hundred millions of gallons daily, were
required, the price was to be correspondingly increased.

Page 77

This proposition aroused the people of Nevada, and
R.L. Fulton, of Reno, Manager of the State Board
of Trade, wrote to the San Francisco supervisors,
calling attention to the facts that there was no surplus
water from Tahoe during the irrigation season, for
the water had been diverted by the farmers living
along the Truckee River to their fields; that flouring-mills,
smelting and reduction works, electric light plant
and water-works at Reno, immense saw-mills, a furniture
factory, box factory, water and electric-light works,
railroad water-tanks, etc., at Truckee, half
a dozen ice-ponds, producing over 200,000 tons of
ice annually, sawmills and marble-working mills at
Essex; planing-mills at Verdi, paper-mill at Floristan,
and other similar plants, were totally dependent for
their water supply upon the Truckee River.

He also claimed (what was the well-known fact) that
the Von Schmidt dam was burned out many years ago,
and that Nevada would put up a tremendously stiff
fight to prevent any such diversion of Tahoe water
as was contemplated. Needless to say the plan
fell through.

CHAPTER XII

BY RAIL TO LAKE TAHOE

Lake Tahoe is fifteen miles from Truckee, which is
one of the mountain stations on the main line of the
Southern Pacific Railway (Central Route), two hundred
and eight miles from San Francisco, thirty-five miles
from Reno, Nevada, and five hundred and seventy-four
miles from Ogden, Utah. By the San Joaquin Valley
route via Sacramento, the distance to Los Angeles
is five hundred and eighty miles, or by San Francisco
and the Coast Line six hundred and ninety-two miles.

During the summer season trains run frequently through,
making Tahoe easily accessible.

From the east the traveler comes over what is practically
the long known and historic overland stage-road, over
which so many thousands of gold-seekers and emigrants
came in the days of California’s gold excitement.
Every mile has some story of pioneer bravery or heroism,
of hairbreadth escape from hostile Indians or fortuitous
deliverance from storm or disaster. It was over
this route the pilgrims came who sought in Utah a
land of freedom where they might follow their own
peculiar conceptions of religion and duty, untrammeled
and uninterfered with by hostile onlookers and disbelievers.
Here came the home-seekers of the earlier day, when
California was still a province of Mexico; those who
had been lured by the glowing stories of the Land
of the Sun Down Sea, where orange and lemon, vine and
fig flourished and indicated the semi-tropic luxuriance
and fruitfulness of the land.

[Illustration: Truckee, Calif., Where Travelers
Take Trains for Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Crossing the Truckee River Near
Deer Park Station]

[Illustration: Placerville, El Dorado Co., California]

[Illustration: Vineyard on the Automotive Highway
between Placerville and Lake Tahoe]

Page 78

From the west the railroad traverses, in the main,
the continuation of this old overland road. After
leaving the fertile valley of the Sacramento and rising
into the glorious foot-hills of the Sierras, every
roll of the billows of the mountains and canyons wedged
in between is redolent of memories of the argonauts
and emigrants. Yonder are Yuba, Dutch Flat, the
North Fork, the South Fork (of the American River),
Colfax, Gold Run, Midas, Blue Canyon, Emigrant Gap,
Grass Valley, Michigan Bluff, Grizzly Gulch, Alpha,
Omega, Eagle Bird, Red Dog, Chips Flat, Quaker Hill
and You Bet. Can you not see these camps, alive
with rough-handed, full-bearded, sun-browned, stalwart
men, and hear the clang of hammer upon drill, the
shock of the blast, the wheeling away and crash of
waste rock as it is thrown over the dump pile?

And then, as we look up and forward into the sea of
mountain-waves into the heart of which we ride, who
but Joaquin Miller can describe the scene?

Here lifts the land of clouds! Fierce mountain
forms,
Made white with everlasting snows, look down
Through mists of many canyons, mighty storms
That stretch from Autumn’s purple drench and
drown
The yellow hem of Spring. Tall cedars frown
Dark-brow’d, through banner’d clouds that
stretch and stream
Above the sea from snowy mountain crown.
The heavens roll, and all things drift or seem
To drift about and drive like some majestic dream.

And it is in the very bosom of this majestic scenery
that Lake Tahoe lies enshrined. Its entrancing
beauty is such that we do not wonder that these triumphant
monarchs of the “upper seas” cluster around
it as if in reverent adoration, and that they wear
their vestal virgin robes of purest white in token
of the purity of their worship.

Thoughts like these flood our hearts and minds as
we reach Truckee, the point where we leave the Southern
Pacific cars and change to those of the narrow-gauge
Lake Tahoe Railway and Transportation Company.
After a brief wait, long enough to allow transfer of
baggage, we leave, from the same station, for the
fifteen miles’ ride to Tahoe Tavern on the very
edge of the Lake.

This ride is itself romantic and beautiful. On
the day trains observation cars are provided, and
the hour is one of delightful, restful and enchanting
scenes. The Truckee River is never out of sight
and again and again it reminds one in its foaming speed
of Joaquin Miller’s expressive phrase:

See where the cool white river runs.

Before 1900 this ride used to be taken by stage, the
railway having been built in that year. It is
interesting here to note that the rails, the locomotives,
the passenger and freight cars were all transported
bodily across the Lake from Glenbrook, on the Nevada
side. There they were in use for many years mainly
for hauling logs and lumber to and from the mills
on the summit, whence it was “flumed” to
Carson City.

Page 79

In those days logging was carried on in the Truckee
River Canyon and the visitor would often have the
pleasure of seeing logs “shoot the chutes”
into the river, by which they were floated to the mills
at Truckee. Here is a picture:

Tree, bush, and flower grow and blossom
upon either side; and a little bird, with a throat
like a thrush, warbles a canticle of exquisite
musical modulations, so to speak. But the most
stirring sight of all is the system of logging
carried on by the mill companies. “Look!
Quick!” ejaculates the driver; and your
gaze is directed to a monster log that comes furiously
dashing from the summit down a chute a thousand
feet in length with twice the ordinary speed of
a locomotive. So rapid is its descent that
it leaves a trail of smoke behind it, and sometimes
kindles a fire among the slivers along its way.
Ah! it strikes the water! In an instant there
is an inverted Niagara in the air, resplendent
with prismatic and transparent veils of spray[1].

[Footnote 1: John Vance Cheney in Lippincott’s.]

The main portion of the canyon is walled in by abrupt
acclivities, upon which majestic trees used to grow,
but where now only the growth of the past twenty-five
to fifty years is found, doing its best to hide the
scars and wounds of the logging days.

The river, issuing from the Lake above, dashes down
its wild way in resistless freedom. It is a rapid,
all but savage stream, widening occasionally into
sheltered pools exceedingly dark and deep. The
bowlders in its channel, and those crowding down into
it from its farther bank, cause it to eddy and foam
with fierce but becoming pride.

A few miles from the Tavern we pass the scene of the
Squaw Valley mining excitement where the two towns
of Knoxville and Claraville arose as if by magic,
tent cities of thousands of inhabitants, lured hither
by a dream of gold, too soon to fade away, leaving
nothing but distress behind.

Deer Park station suggests the leaving point for that
charmingly picturesque resort, snuggling in the heart
of Bear Canyon. Now we pass the masses of tuffaceous
breccia that “Pap” Church, the old stage-driver
used to call the Devil’s Pulpit, and the devil’s
this and that or the other, until many a traveler
would wish they were all with the devil.

This is a remnant of the vast mass of volcanic rock
that in long ago prehistoric times was poured out
in molten sheets over the region, and that formed
the range we shall shortly see at the north end of
the Lake—­the Mount Pluto range. At
some later period either earthquake convulsion started
the break which ultimately eroded and disintegrated
into the great gorge through which the railway has
brought us, or grinding glacier cut the pathway for
us.

Page 80

Here, on the right, is a tiny swinging foot-bridge
over the river. This is the beginning, the suggestion,
for the vast suspension bridges that have allowed
the world to cross the great North River from New
York to Brooklyn, and that span great rivers and gorges
elsewhere in the world. Nay! scarcely the beginning.
That you find further up and deeper down in the High
Sierras and their shaded and wooded canyons, where
wild vines throw their clinging tendrils across from
one shore to another of foaming creeks, and gradually
grow in girth and strength until they form bridges,
over which chipmunks, squirrels, porcupines, ’coons,
coyotes, and finally mountain lions, bears, and even
men cross with safety. There is the real origin
of the suspension bridge. But this is a miniature,
a model, a suggestion of the big bridges. It
affords ready access to the house on the other side.
In winter, however, the boards are taken up, as the
heavy snows that fall and accumulate might wreck it.

It is hard to realize that, a few months from now,
when winter begins, this railroad must perforce cease
its operations. Snow falls, here, where the sun
is now smiling so beneficently upon laughing meadows,
dotted here and there with dainty flowers, to a depth
of ten and even twenty feet. The mail—­necessarily
much reduced in winter—­is first of all
carried in sleighs, then, as the snows deepen, on snow-shoes,
so that those who stay to preserve the “summer
hotels” from winter’s ravages may not
feel entirely shut out from the living world beyond.

But there is nothing that suggests snow now.
We are enjoying the delights of a summer day or evening,
and know that we are near our journey’s end.
Suddenly there is a long call of the whistle, a short
curve, and if in the daytime, the Lake suddenly appears,
or, if at night, the lights of the Tavern, and our
rail journey is done. We are deposited in Fairyland,
for whether it be day or evening, the Lake or the
Tavern, our senses are thrilled and charmed by everything
that appears.

CHAPTER XIII

THE WISHBONE AUTOMOBILE ROUTE TO AND AROUND LAKE TAHOE

This is the name given to the 260-mile automobile
route to and from Lake Tahoe, going in from Sacramento
over the world-famed Emigrant Gap and Donner Lake
road, around the western shore of Lake Tahoe, from
Tahoe Tavern to Tallac, and thence back to Sacramento
over the historic and picturesque Placerville road.
While both of the two main arms of the “wishbone”
carry the traveler over the Sierras, the roads are
wonderfully different. On the Emigrant Gap arm
the road seems to have been engineered somewhat after
the Indian fashion, viz., to allow the wildest
and most expansive outlooks, while the Placerville
route is largely confined to the picturesque and beautiful
canyon of the South Fork of the American River.
Both have honored histories and both are fascinating
from the scenic standpoint and the difference in the
two routes merely accentuates the charm of the trip,
when compared with the new portion of the road, the
connecting link that binds them together and now makes
possible the ride around the lake shore. Experience
has demonstrated, however, that it is better to make
the circuit as herein outlined.

Page 81

A brief sketch of the history of the building of the
Emigrant Gap portion of this road cannot fail to be
of interest.

It was practically followed by a host of the emigrants
who sought California during the great gold excitement
of 1848-9. It was also one of the earliest routes
used between Sacramento and the mines of the High
Sierras. In 1849 it was established from Sacramento
to Auburn, Grass Valley and Nevada City and to-day
there is practically little deviation from the original
route. In 1850 the mines on the Forest Hill Divide
were discovered and a branch road from Auburn was built
to that section. At Illinoistown (now Colfax)
the road branched, one arm crossing the North Fork
of the American River to Iowa Hill and other camps
on that divide, while the main road continued up the
Sierras to Gold Run, Dutch Flat and other points higher
up.

Until the Central Pacific Railway was built in the
’sixties Illinoistown was the junction for the
different Camps in Nevada County and the Bear River
and Iowa Hill Divides. The population of these
regions in those early days was much greater than at
the present time, yet the demands of the modern automobile
have so improved the roads that they are much superior
to what the large population of those days enjoyed.

In 1862 the California legislature authorized the
supervisors of certain counties to call special elections
to vote upon the question as to whether those counties
should subscribe towards the building of the Central
Pacific Railway, and to authorize them to issue bonds
for the amounts they decided to expend. San Francisco
county subscribed $1,000,000, Sacramento county $300,000
and Placer county $250,000.

In 1863 the Railroad Company began its work of grading
the road bed at Sacramento, and yet, in 1865 it was
only completed to Alta, a distance of 68 miles.
At the same time it was making strenuous efforts to
divert passenger and freight traffic for Virginia City
and other Nevada points from the Placerville route.
This had become possible because of the fact that
when the railway line was actually built as far as
Newcastle the engineers realized that before they could
build the rest of their railroad they would need to
construct a highway of easy grade, which would enable
them to haul the necessary supplies for constructing
the tunnels, cuts and bridges. Accordingly a survey
was made up to Truckee, over the Nevada line into
Reno and Virginia City, securing the best possible
grade for a wagon road, and this was rushed to a hasty
completion.

Naturally, they were anxious to gain all the paying
traffic possible, and especially under the adverse
conditions under which they were laboring. But,
needless to say, this caused the fiercest hostility
on the part of their competitors, laid them open to
serious charges, which, later, were made, and that
for a time threatened desperate consequences, as I
will now proceed to relate.

Page 82

In the late fall of 1864 the Sacramento Valley Railroad
(the rival of the Central Pacific) arranged to make
a record trip from Freeport to Virginia City by the
Placerville route. Though the officials endeavored
to keep the matter secret, it leaked out and immediately
the Central Pacific planned to circumvent their aim.
They stationed relays along their own line to compete,
and Nature and Fate seemed to come to their aid.
A fierce storm arose the day before the start was
to be made, and it fell heavier on the Placerville
than on the other route. Though the drivers of
each line did their utmost, feeling their own personal
honor, as well as that of their company at stake, the
heavy rains at Strawberry arrested the Placerville
stage and made further progress impossible, while
the other route was enabled to complete its trip on
record time. Mr. L.L. Robinson, the Superintendent
of the Sacramento Valley Railroad, who himself accompanied
the stage, wired from Strawberry, “Heavy rains,
heavy roads, slow time”—­reluctant
to own a possible defeat. But the Sacramento
Union, the organ of the Central Pacific, came
out the next morning with glowing accounts of the
successful run of the stages over the Emigrant Gap
route and ridiculed Mr. Robinson’s telegram,
ironically comparing it with Caesar’s classic
message to the Roman Senate: “Veni, Vidi,
Vici.”

It was such struggles for local business as this that
led the San Francisco Alta California, a paper
bitterly opposed to the Central Pacific, to denounce
the railway, in 1866, as the “Dutch Flat Swindle.”
It claimed that the railway would never be built further
than Alta and that it was built so far only for the
purpose of controlling passenger and freight traffic
over their wagon road to Virginia City and other Nevada
points. Other San Francisco papers joined in
the fight and so energetically was it conducted, and
so powerful became the opposition that they actually
prevailed upon the people of San Francisco to repudiate
their contract to purchase a million dollars’
worth of Central Pacific stock and compromise by practically
making the railroad company a present of $600,000 (which
had already been expended) provided they would release
the City and County from their pledge to raise the
remaining $400,000.

The folly of this action is now so apparent that it
is hard to conceive how even political and civic jealousy
or hatred could have been so blinded to self-interest.
The Central Pacific engineers had undertaken one of
the most difficult pieces of railway engineering in
the world, and the financiers of the company were having
an equally desperate struggle. During the Civil
War the finances of the nation were at a low ebb and
money was exceedingly difficult to secure. Yet
in spite of all obstacles the company had gone ahead
in perfect good faith, and at that very time were
hauling rails and track material from Alta, and soon
from Cisco, to Truckee (then called Coburn Station
on the old Emigrant Gap road), and had actually built
the railroad from Truckee down into Nevada and as
far east as Wadsworth, or a little beyond, before
the tunnel at Summit was completed.

Thus in storm and stress was this road born, and in
the winter time of our day it is still a road of storm
and stress, as are all of the roads over the High
Sierras. It must be remembered that while the
elevation at Sacramento is but thirty feet above sea
level, at Summit it is 7018 feet, and even at Truckee,
where the turn is made for Tahoe, it is 5819 feet.
Naturally such high altitudes receive considerable
snow, which render the roads impassable during the
winter season. In 1914 I went from Truckee to
the Summit on the 10th of June, and save for two or
three patches of snow which were rapidly melting,
there were no serious obstacles that any good motor
could not overcome.

FROM SACRAMENTO TO TAHOE ON THE EMIGRANT GAP AND DONNER LAKE ROUTE,
135 MILES

From Sacramento the grade is easy and the country
fairly open until Auburn is reached (35-1/2 miles.)
The roads are excellent, the disintegrated granite
affording local material close at hand for perfect
road building. The Sierras stretch away to the
east in gently ascending billows, covered over with
richest verdure of native trees of every variety,
and of the thousands of orchard trees that are making
this region as famous for its fruits as it used to
be for its mines. For from 1849 until the hydraulic
mines were closed down by the anti-debris decision
in the U.S. Supreme Court, this section and beyond
was one of the richest gold mining regions of California,
and historically, one of the greatest importance to
the State. Such places as Auburn, Illinoistown
(Colfax), Gold Run and Dutch Flat, were rich producing
camps and branch roads reached to Yankee Jim, Todd’s
Valley, Forest Hill, Michigan Bluffs, Bath, and other
towns on what is known as the Forest Hill Divide,
a divide being a local term, to signify the rocky,
mountainous mass,—­nearly always having a
level grade on its summit,—­that separates
two forks of the same stream, or two different streams.
From Colfax another road led to Grass Valley, Nevada
City, and North Bloomfield in Nevada County, and Iowa
Hill, Wisconsin Hill, Monona Flat, and Damascus on
the Iowa Hill Divide. All these were centers
of rich mining districts which were scenes of the greatest
activity in the days of their productivity. Now,
however, most of them are abandoned, except Auburn,
Colfax, and Nevada City which have other resources,
and Grass Valley, which maintains its high standing
owing to its rich quartz mines. Forest Hill,
Iowa Hill, and Michigan Bluff have drift mines which
maintain small and meager populations compared with
those of the early and prosperous days. In the
’fifties Yankee Jim and its tributary mines
had a population of 3000, while to-day it is entirely
deserted. Todd’s Valley, which was also
a flourishing camp has suffered the same fate.

Page 84

Auburn to Colfax 16 Miles, Colfax to Emigrant Gap,
30-1/2 Miles. Leaving Auburn the road ascends
more rapidly until Colfax (16 miles) is reached (elevation
2422 feet). Then ten miles further one is in
the heart of the most extensive hydraulic mining operations
of California. Thousands of acres are passed which
yet bear the scars of the “washing down”
for the precious mineral hid away during the centuries
until the Argonauts of ’49 and later unearthed
it by their gigantic hydraulic nozzles. Millions
of dollars were extracted from these placers, but
now the villages are deserted and all mining operations
have ceased. The time is not far distant when
automobile parties will arrange to stop over in one
of these little places, and with a competent guide,
go over the deserted placers. It is hard to realize
that by the mere power of water mountains were washed
away, leaving the denuded country on the one hand,
a land of mounds and hummocks, like the Bad Lands
in miniature, and on the other hand of masses of debris,
too heavy to be washed away into the streams.

The wildest portions of the Sierras are revealed in
ascending from Dutch Flat to the Summit. The
snowsheds of the Southern Pacific Railway come into
sight, perched like peculiar long black boxes, with
peep-holes, along an impossible ledge of the massive
granite cliffs, and the Sierran trees tower upright
from every possible vantage ground in the granite
beneath.

At Towle, three miles beyond Dutch Flat, the shipping
point is reached from which much of the material was
hauled for the building of Lake Spaulding dam.
Hundreds of teams were employed in this work, and the
road showed an almost unbroken procession for months.
This was in 1912-13. A side trip to this remarkable
dam, impounding the waters of the High Sierras for
the generation of electric power to be used not only
in the Sacramento Valley but in far away San Francisco,
cannot fail to be of interest. The area of the
Lake, with the dam at its present elevation, is such
as to justify the assertion that it is next to if
not the largest artificial lake in the world.

Emigrant Gap to Cisco, 14 Miles.—­Fourteen
miles from Towle, after enjoying the rich blue haze
of Blue Canyon, the road passes through the natural
Sierran pass at Emigrant Gap which gives its name
to the route. Here one who has not been over the
road before must not fail to note the following:
As he passes through the Gap the massive granite wall
towers in dominant power to the right and leads one
to feel that miles of rugged peaks are there. Yet
not more than a hundred yards farther on, the
wall fades away, and if he stops here, and turns off
the road slightly to the right, he will glimpse a
vision of glory and sublimity that will take away his
breath. Here, from a thousand or two thousand
feet almost sheer above it, one gazes down to where
in peaceful repose lies Bear Valley, a rich emerald
green meadow, on the right side of which flows the
South Fork of the Yuba River, and on the left heads
Bear Creek, which empties into the Sacramento at Marysville.
Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes are alway spent here
by those who know of this delectable surprise, yet
many come over the road unheeding and are never aware
of what they have missed.

Page 85

Eight miles beyond Emigrant Gap, at Cisco, one sees
a branch road which leads to the old Meadow Lake Mining
District, which in the ’sixties had a population
of several thousands. A large town was built
there, which is now totally abandoned.

Cisco to Summit, 13 Miles. At Summit a
marvelous view is had in both directions, east and
west. Westward the fall of the Sierras into the
Sacramento Valley is apparently so gentle and easy
as to lead one to wonder that he has risen so high,
but eastward the descent is much more steep and abrupt.
The rude granite in many places is almost barren though
Sierran trees abound. The grade is easy, and the
new grade and tunnel under the Southern Pacific tracks
makes an added improvement. Almost immediately
on emerging from this tunnel the full glory of the
eastern view is forced upon the attention. At
one’s feet, apparently, lies the placid surface
of Donner Lake, its pure blue giving one a premonitory
foretaste of the richer blues that await him at Tahoe,
while beyond are the mountains that overlook the Great
Basin of Nevada.

Summit to Truckee, 11 Miles. Rapidly the
road descends, well engineered and easy to negotiate
to any responsible driver, and before one is aware
he is bowling along on the level Donner Boulevard,
which is as perfect a piece of country road as can
be found anywhere on earth. The Monument (not
yet completed) erected by the Native Sons to the memory
of the Donner Lake pioneers, and the Memorial Cross,
erected on the spot where the unhappy party camped,
are passed and in a few minutes Truckee is reached.
This was once the scene of great lumber activities
but now much reduced, although it is the shipping
point for Hobarts Mills, which is one of the largest
lumber camps of the West.

Here the road to Tahoe turns sharply to the south,
and the fifteen miles run to the Tavern is made in
the picturesque canyon of the Truckee River fully
described in another chapter.

FROM TAHOE TAVERN TO TALLAC

On Tuesday, June 9, 1914, I had the pleasure of making
the first trip of the season over the new Tahoe Boulevard
from Tahoe to Tallac. Let me here quote the account
written at the time:

It was a fine morning, clear and just cool enough
to be pleasant, no wind, sun shining through the trees,
the Lake glistening in its richest morning glory,
the air like wine, birds singing everywhere, chipmunks
chattering as they ran up and down the trees, and we
as full of life as they, when we made the start.
Our machine was a Chalmers 20, a first-class chauffeur
at the wheel, with instructions to go slow, let us
see all there was, and to run no risks if the winter’s
snows and storms had interfered with the safety of
the road. We didn’t even wear overcoats,
though all the peaks were covered with snow.

Page 86

The first mile or two from the Tavern is through avenues
of second growth timber just tall enough to be delightful.
In turn we passed many of the choice residences that
are making Tahoe growingly popular as a summer home,
and then crossed Ward Creek and Blackwood Creek.
This latter is one of the principal trout spawning
streams of Tahoe, and to prevent fishermen from catching
the fish that seek the stream at the spawning season
the Fish Commissioners have placed a buoy out in the
Lake, some twenty-five hundred feet away, within which
bound it is illegal to catch fish.

While many trees have been logged from this region
there are still enough to make it forest-like, and
as the road winds and turns it affords glimpses and
full views, sometimes for only a moment or two, and
again for a minute or more, of the placid-faced blue
Lake on the left, or the snowy mountain summits straight
ahead or on the right. What rich contrasts of
color, what revelations of majesty and sublimity each
new turn affords!

The first eight miles is fairly level road and close
to the Lake, but eight miles out, just before reaching
McKinney’s, the new portion of the State Highway
begins, and it has been engineered to give scenic
and romantic effect all along the way. In road
building no longer is it necessary to consider the
cheapest and nearest way. “Give us the
most scenic,” cry the motorists, “we’ll
pay the bills and our machines will speedily eat up
any extra distance we may be required to travel to
obtain the best scenery of the country.”
From now on the whole trip is one of carefully engineered
surprises and revelations. Colwell’s Moana
Villa, and Pomin’s new and beautiful place are
passed and then we ascend, and suddenly Meek’s
Bay is revealed to us, a glorious symphony in blues,
deepening and richening into pure amethyst, with lines,
patches and borders of emerald and lapis lazuli.
Beyond rise hill-studded slopes leading the eye higher
and higher until, anchored in a sky as blue as is
the Lake below, are the snowy-white crowns of the
Rubicon Peaks, with here and there a craggy mass protruding
as though it were a Franciscan’s scalp surrounded
by pure white hair. Up and down we glide, the
soft purring of the motor as we run on the level changing
to the chug-chugging of the up-pulls, or the grip
of the brake as we descend. Every few feet new
vistas of beauty are projected before us. The
moving pictures are all exquisite. Indeed, after
many studies of this incomparable Lake Tahoe I verily
believe there is no more beautiful spot on it than
Meek’s Bay seen from this road.

To get its full charm we stop the machine for a while.
Looking back we discover that the curve where we rest
is a marvelous outlook point. We have ascended
to a good height and look down upon the Lake.
There are light blue, emerald green, deep blue in
patches and in long irregularly shaped points.
Here are Como, Maggiore, Lugano and Windermere all
in one, though as yet free from the houses and artificial
gardens on the slopes. But Nature such as this
needs none of man’s adornment to make it perfect.

Page 87

Starting the engine again we circle around the point
and come immediately into another charming circlet
of views. Between Meek’s Bay and Rubicon
Point is another little recess in the lakeshore, Grecian
Bay, a good second to the one I have just described.
Here we particularly notice the effect of the many
varieties of trees, their dark trunks, branches and
foliage set out almost in silhouette against the pure
color of the Lake below. These elevated stretches
of road are a constant joy and delight. They
afford us glad surprises every few moments in such
views of the Lake as we could not otherwise obtain.

Crossing Lonely Gulch, watched over by the serene
pure loveliness of the snowy peaks above, a good climb
up a steep stretch of road brings us to the shoulder
of Rubicon Point. Winding in and out, twining
and twisting around and around, we reach Rubicon Park,
from which place we get a perfect view of the whole
Lake from one end to the other.

To-day there are a score or more of fishermen out
in their little boats, and strange to say, all of
them near enough to be seen, are fishing in a patch
of deep blue. The water there must be deeper than
elsewhere, for there is where they invariably get their
best catches.

In marked contrast to the blue is a great finger of
emerald thrust out from a nearby point, as if in warning
not to dare pass its mysterious border.

Now we come to the wild and rugged scenery. We
are hemmed in on the right by towering crags and walls
of massive gray rock. Shattered and seamed, scarred
and disintegrated, they look as though earthquake and
lightning shock and the storms of a thousand years
had battled with them. They give a new touch
of grandeur and almost awesome sublimity to the scene.

For a mile or two we play at hide and seek with the
Lake. It seems as though we were in the hands
of a wizard. “Now you see it, now you don’t.”
Query: “Where is the Lake?” Mountains,
snowbanks, granite walls, trees galore, creeks flashing
their white crests dashing down their stony courses
toward the Lake, but only now and then do we catch
fleeting glimpses of it. All at once it bursts
full and clear again upon our enraptured vision, but
only to give us a full taste of its supernal beauty
before we are whirled around a curve where the eye
rests upon nothing but the rugged majesty of the Sierras.
Change and contrast, the picturesque, beautiful, delicate
and exquisite in close touch and harmonious relationship
with the majestic and the sublime. Travel the
whole world over and nothing surpassing this can be
found.

Page 88

Now we curve around high up above Emerald Bay, that
small glacial Lake, the eastern terminal moraine of
which was unfortunately torn through, so that the
lake disappeared and became a bay of
the great Lake itself. Every moment of this portion
of the ride is a delight. The senses are kept
keenly alert, for not only have we the Lake, the bay
and the mountains, but part of the way we have flowers
and shrubs by the thousands, bees and butterflies flit
to and fro, and singing streams come foaming white
from the snowbanks above, eager to reach the Lake.
As our car-wheels dash across these streamlets they
splash up the water on each side into sparkling diamonds
and on every hand come up the sweet scents of growing,
living things. Now Mt. Tallac, in all his
serene majesty, looms ahead. Snow a hundred or
more feet deep in places covers his rocky sides.
Here we can see where glaciers were born in the early
days when Tallac was several thousand feet higher
than it now is.

Below us is the emerald-ringed bay, with its romantic
little island at the west end, and nearby the joyously-shouting
Eagle Creek as it plunges over the precipice and makes
the foam-flecked Eagle Falls. Our road here was
blasted through some fiercely solid and hostile rock.
One boulder alone that stood in the way weighed (it
was estimated by the engineers) from 800 to 1000 tons.
Fifty cases of highly explosive powder were suitably
placed all around it. Excursion steamers took
hundreds of people from all parts of the Lake to see
the explosion, and at the proper moment, while everybody
held his breath, the fuses were fired, the blasts
took effect, the rock flew down to the level beneath,
shattered into four great masses. A new El Capitan
now rises above us, though it lacks the smooth unbroken
dignity of the great Yosemite cliff, yet it is sublime
in its sudden rise and vast height. Nestling
at its feet is Eagle Lake, and beyond are the Velmas
and a score of other glacial jewels calling for visitors
to rhapsodize over their beauty. Maggie’s
Peaks are to our right, Eagle Falls to our left, with
Emerald Bay, the Island, the Point and the Lake beyond
all calling upon us to enjoy them to the full.

We decide to stay here for lunch, and under the shelter
of a giant sugar pine a thousand years old, listening
to the eternally buoyant song of Eagle Falls, we refresh
ourselves with the good lunch put up for us at the
Tavern.

Again we push ahead and soon have our first adventure:
The road gang was at work, and we did not expect to
go much farther, but they assured us that, save for
a few rough places here and there, which they would
speedily correct, we need have no fear but that we
could get through with ease. In a score of places,
since we left the Tavern, we had crossed little streams
of snow-water that had come tumbling down from the
banks above. Suddenly we came to one with a larger
volume than most of the others, and the road bed a

Page 89

little softer, so it had cut quite a deep little passage
for itself. Easily our chauffeur dropped the
front wheels into the cut, and to his surprise he
found they stuck there. It did not take us long
to jack up the wheels and put rocks underneath them,
and we were about ready to get out when the road gang
came along with a wagon and a pair of sturdy mules.
As quickly as it takes me to tell it the mules were
attached to our back axle and we were pulled out.
A few more rocks and a couple of planks placed over
the cut and we were honking on our way with triumph.

Half a mile farther we came upon the ridge that separates
Emerald Bay from Cascade Lake. Both are in clear
View at the same time, while to the west we can hear
the joyous song of Cascade Falls in its grand leap
down from the foot of the snow-banks of Mt. Tallac
into the tree-clad stream-course below.

Now the road brings us almost directly above the Lake,
with a rapid slope down, covered with dainty trees
and shrubs of recent growth. From here we gain
a fine view of the south end of the lakeshore.
Tallac, the Grove, Bijou, Al Tahoe and clear across
to Lakeside, with the deep green of the meadows above,
and the snowy crowns of Freel’s, Job’s,
and Job’s sister, with Monument Peak combine
to give the proper setting to the Lake.

Soon we are racing across the level to the Fish Hatchery,
between avenues of quaking aspens and young tamaracks
and pines. Suddenly we come upon a mired car,
the driver of which had just crossed the Sierras from
Placerville, with little or no difficulty, but coming
to a soft piece of road here when going a trifle faster
than he should, and the side of the road having caught
a lot of snow-water, he had bogged and was working
like a beaver to extricate himself. We had a
stout rope along and it was the work of two or three
minutes to get him out and we again pushed forward,
gratified and smiling at the warmly expressed thanks
of himself and his three happy women-folks who were
enjoying their first trip into the Tahoe country, and
already confessing their complete subjection to its
thrall.

Passing the Hatchery we were only a few more minutes
in reaching Tallac House, the first to complete the
auto-trip this season. Except for a few short
stretches of scarcely completed road it is in excellent
condition, and the road gang now at work will have
all the rough portions smoothed down in a few days.

It should here be noted that side trips may be made
in automobiles to Glen Alpine Springs and Fallen Leaf
Lodge. Both resorts use their own automobile
stages daily during the season, hence keep the roads
in good condition.

We made the return trip from Tallac House to the Tavern
in two hours exactly. The distance is 26 miles.
The road gang had already put a bridge over the place
that had delayed us on coming out, and the road throughout
was easy and safe. Naturally it is not as easy
to negotiate as a San Francisco boulevard, but with
the wheel in the hands of a careful chauffeur there
is perfect safety and a trip that need give not a
moment’s fear to the most timorous.

Page 90

FROM TALLAC TO SACRAMENTO, BY THE PLACERVILLE ROUTE, 108 MILES

This is practically the first historic route into
California, for, as I have shown in the chapter on
Fremont’s Explorations, it was the one the Pathfinder
practically followed on his memorable trip that led
to the discovery of Lake Tahoe.

Hence, when the gold excitement attracted its thousands
to California, many of the argonauts took this road,
following the Humboldt River and turning south at
the Humboldt “Sink,” crossing to the Carson
“Sink” and then ascending to the headwaters
of the Carson River, over into Hope Valley and thence
down to Strawberry Valley and on to the mines.
This was the origin of the road, and it was in steady
and continuous use until the startling news of the
discovery of the Comstock Lode in Virginia City aroused
the mining world. From every camp in California
rude and stalwart men eagerly set forth to reach the
new Camp. It was a genuine stampede. The
chief question was: “Will the new Camp make
good?” It answered this question by transcending
the expectations of the most sanguine. Silver
and gold were taken out in fabulous quantities.
Chunks of almost pure native silver, weighing scores
of pounds, were hewed out of the chambers where they
were found, and men went wild with excitement.
Houses sprang up over-night. A vast population
soon clung to the slopes of Mt. Davidson.
Mining and milling machinery was needed, and demanded
with tremendous urgency, to reap the richer harvest.
There was no railroad, and the old Emigrant Road was
not in condition to meet the needs. Few people
can realize the wild excitement that reigned and the
string of teams, men riding on horseback, or afoot,
stage-coaches, freight wagons, that poured in endless
procession over the road. Nothing like it has
been seen since, except during the Klondike rush.
As soon, however, as it was possible to secure the
proper authority newer and easier grades were surveyed
and private individuals undertook to build certain
sections of the road under the condition that they
were to be granted the right to collect toll for so
many years. These rights have long since lapsed,
and the road is now a part of the excellent system
of El Dorado County, which, though a mountain county,
boasts some of the best roads in California.

Tallac to Echo, 11-1/2 Miles. Leaving
Tallac, an easy and pleasant eight-mile run on almost
level roads through Tallac Meadows brings one to Celios,
once Myers’ Station (6500 feet). Now begins
the upgrade, winding its way up the mountain side
to the crest from which Starr King wrote his exquisite
description, elsewhere quoted. This is one of
the superb outlook-points where the full sweep of Lake
and encircling mountains is in full and complete view.

After a few minutes for gazing the journey is resumed,
soon crossing a bridge, near which stand the remnants
of the old toll-house. On the right a foot-trail
or bridle-path leads to Glen Alpine. A few miles
of fairly rapid descent and Echo is reached, 49-1/2
miles from Placerville.

Page 91

The stream here, during the snow-melting season must
be a dashing, roaring, sparkling mass of foam, for
it is a bowlder-strewn rocky way, suggesting the wild
stream it becomes when the snows melt and spring’s
freshets come.

Echo to Strawberry, 7 Miles. The next
mile and a half is a rapid descent, for elevation
declines five hundred feet, ere we reach Phillips,
near which, in Audrian Lake, is the chief source of
the South Fork of the American River.

The Water Company that controls the flow has here
tampered with primitive physiography, in that it has
cut a tunnel or channel from the Echo Lakes, tapping
their water supply and conveying it to Audrian Lake.
Hence strictly speaking the Echo Lakes are now the
headwaters of the South Fork.

Soon we pass Hay Press Meadows, so called from the
fact that hay was cut here in the old stage-coach
days, baled with an old-fashioned press, and sold
for $90 to $100 per ton, after being hauled to Virginia
City.

Down we go into Strawberry Valley, where 42-1/2 miles
from Placerville, we reach Strawberry, at 5700 feet
elevation. This used to be a noted stopping-place
in the olden days, sometimes the whole flat area being
covered with loaded wagons bound for the mines.

There is a rugged majesty about this Valley that has
always made its impression on men. To the right
is the southern end of the Crystal Range, and to the
left the Yosemite-like cliff known as Lover’s
Leap, 6985 feet elevation. As the station at
Strawberry is 5700 feet, this cliff is 1285 feet in
sheer ascent. Leading up it are strange columnar
towers and structures of Egyptian appearance that remind
us of those lines of Joaquin Miller’s:

Great massive rocks that near us lay,
Deep nestled in the grass untrod
By aught save wild beasts of the wood—­
Great, massive, squared, and chisel’d
stone,
Like columns that had toppled down
From temple dome or tower crown,
Along some drifted, silent way
Of desolate and desert town
Built by the children of the Sun.

We pass under the great cliff, and past a glacially-polished
dome on the left. The cliff is all cross-hatched
and seamed with infiltrations of quartz. Ahead
of us to the right is a canyon that is the southern
extension of Desolation Valley.

Strawberry to Kyburgs, 10 Miles. A few
miles below Strawberry we pass Georgetown Junction
(where the road from Georgetown enters the main road),
and ten miles brings us to Kyburgs, 4000 feet elevation,
the canyon narrowing as we descend. On the right
we pass Sugar Loaf (6500 feet).

At Kyburgs the water is taken out for the domestic
and irrigation water-supply of Placerville—­8000
inches of water. The station is located at a
break in the mountains where a cone-shaped rock, covered
with trees, is a striking feature.

Page 92

Kyburgs, Through Riverton, to Pacific House, 14
Miles. Passing the South Fork of the American
on the left, nine and a half miles brings us to Riverton,
a charming river resort where many visitors stop during
the season for a day or a week, as this is a noted
center for fishing and hunting. Here we cross
over an excellent bridge, surrounded by a mountain
amphitheater lined with trees, and our road follows
the course of the bowlder-strewn river-bed. Yonder
is the scene of a noted “hold-up” in the
old mining days.

If we cared to go over the files of the newspapers
of the days when bullion was being shipped daily by
stage to Placerville, how many accounts might we not
find of “hold-ups” by daring “road-agents.”
And it does not take much imagination to picture in
this secluded spot or that, the sudden appearance
of a masked bandit, gun in hand, and to hear the sharp
quick commands, “Halt! and Hands up!” and
to hear the “squeesch” of the brake on
the wheel, to see the hands of driver, express-messenger,
and passengers go up in helpless anger and furious
impotence.

Then the “Stand down here!” or “Come
off of that quick, and line up alongside!” and
the immediate obedience of all concerned, and the
sharp “keep them hands up, gentlemen,
or somebody’ll be gettin’ hurt,”
or perhaps a fierce imprecation, if the bandit was
less of the “Gentleman George” type than
has so often been described.

And what a scene it would make for an artist—­the
most indignant passenger of them all made to hold
the hat and collect the “swag,” as the
alert-eyed bandit stands by, gun in hand, ready to
shoot down the first person who makes any show of
resistance!

Then the permission given to get aboard, accompanied
by the rude order: “Throw out that express-box,
and drive on, and don’t look this way or some
one’ll have a hole blown through the top of his
head!” and the mixture of dejection and relief
shown in the faces of driver, messenger and passengers
as the coach rolled on again.

What a panorama of quickly acted scenes it must have
been, and how often it occurred on this road!
Not even history has recorded a half of the times
it happened.

Soon, almost hidden in the dense foliage of the tree-lined
slopes, we pass Esmeralda Fall, whose waters dash
in foam over 60 feet, to unite with the river far
beneath.

As we near Pacific House, 4-1/2 miles further on,
we come to where the new road diverges a little from
the old one. It used to descend to the river,
but we preserve a fairly even grade, solidly built,
wide and well kept.

Pacific House to Placerville, 18-1/2 Miles.
Then for a mile or so the road hangs over the yawning
chasm of the river. It is wide and in fine condition
so we dash along to where, on the up trip, the first
glimpse is gained of the Crystal Range, its two chief
peaks, Pyramid and Agassiz, dominating the landscape
from this side as they do from Desolation Valley on
the eastern side of the range.

Page 93

[Illustration: Casino at Tahoe Tavern, From Pier]

[Illustration: Pier, Steamer Tahoe, and Lake
Tahoe from Casino]

In nine more miles Camino is reached, through clusters
of pines, with perfectly level stretches for speeding
and—­dreaming. One’s mind unconsciously
goes back to the old days and he sees as in a moving-picture
film the “days of ’49.” For
this road is a road of memories. One shuts his
eyes and muses, and immediately there troops before
him a rushing, bustling, hurrying throng. These
were the modern argonauts, the seekers for the Golden
Fleece:

Great horny-handed men and tall;
Men blown from many a barren land
Beyond the sea; men red of hand,
And men in love, and men in debt,
Like David’s men in battle set—­
And every man somehow a man.
They push’d the mailed wood aside,
They toss’d the forest like a toy,
That grand forgotten race of men—­
The boldest band that yet has been
Together since the Siege of Troy.

Some carried packs on their backs, with pick and shovel,
drill and pan. Others rode, leading their burden-bearing
burros or mules. Wagon after wagon creaked along,
laden to the full with supplies, food, or machinery.

As we push along and come to the river, Joaquin Miller’s
words make the memory pictures for us:

I look along each gaping gorge,
I hear a thousand sounding strokes
Like giants rending giant oaks,
Or brawny Vulcan at his forge;
I see pickaxes flash and shine;
Hear great wheels whirling in a mine.
Here winds a thick and yellow thread,
A moss’d and silver stream instead;
And trout that leap’d its riffled tide
Have turn’d upon their sides and died.

Below Camino we pass near to Pino Grande, where the
great cable railway carries loaded cars of logs across
the deep canyon of the American River.

Rapidly we reach Smith’s Flat, 4 miles, a famous
mining-camp in the days gone by, but now consisting
of a general store, a few houses, and a gnarled old
log fashioned into a glorious water-trough fit for
the Vikings.

Three more miles and Placerville is reached, the quaint
old reminder of “the days of ’49, the
days of old, the days of gold,” when men flocked
to California from all parts of the earth eager with
the lust for gold. In those memorable days it
was called “Hangtown,” a name some of
its present-day citizens would fain forget, oblivious,
in their own small-mindedness that they are neither
responsible for its history nor its nomenclature.

Built primarily in the somewhat shut-in walls of a
small canyon, it winds and curves around in a happy-go-lucky
fashion, and when the canyon widens out, spills over
into irregular streets and up and down hills that
were once clad with pines, firs, spruces and junipers.
That wealth and prosperity have smiled upon it in
late years is evidenced by its comfortable lawn-girdled
homes, its thriving orchards, its active business
streets, and its truly beautiful, because simple,
chaste and dignified, county court-house.

A well equipped auto stage is run daily between Tallac
House and Placerville. Experienced and careful
drivers and first class cars only are used. They
are owned by the Richardson Garage, of Pasadena, Calif.,
long known to the exacting population of that city
as a thoroughly reliable, prompt and efficient house.

CHAPTER XIV

TAHOE TAVERN

Swinging around to the south from the course of the
Truckee River on to the Lake, the railway deposits
the traveler at Tahoe Tavern, preeminently the chief
resort for those who demand luxurious comfort in all
its varied manifestations. Yet at the outset let
it be clearly understood that it is not a fashionable
resort, in the sense that every one, men and women
alike, must dress in fashionable garb to be welcomed
and made at home. It is a place of common sense
and rational freedom. If one comes in from a
hunting or fishing trip at dinner time, he is expected
to enter the dining room as he is. If one has
taken a walk in his white flannels he is as welcome
to a dance in the Casino, the dining-room, or the
social-hall as if he wore the most conventional evening
dress. Indeed, visitors are urged to bring their
old clothes that they may indulge to the full their
penchants for mountain-climbing, riding, rowing,
fishing, horse-back-riding, botanizing in the woods,
or any other out-of-door occupation where old clothes
are the only suitable ones.

The building itself is completely embowered in pine,
cedar, spruce and firs of differing ages, sizes and
qualities of color. Though far enough from the
Lake to allow of a large untrimmed grass-plot where
innumerable swing seats, reclining chairs, “lazy
rests,” etc., invite to lounging and loafing,
the trees have been so trimmed out as to give exquisite
glimpses of the dazzling blue of the water from every
hand.

The Tavern is especially appropriate to its surroundings.
It is three full stories high, with many gables relieving
the regularity of the roof, which is steep-pitched,
to throw off the winter’s snows. The whole
structure is covered with shingles, stained or oiled
to a dark brown, and as climbing and clinging vines
have wreathed themselves about every corner, and up
many posts of the veranda, and there is a wealth of
cultivated wild flowers banked up in beds around it,
nothing could be more pleasing and harmonious.
Roads, walks and trails radiate from the Tavern in
all directions, except directly across the Lake, and
numerous boats and launches make this as accessible
as any other direction. Near enough to be interesting
is the wharf, with its daily bustle of the arrival
and departure of trains, launches and steamers.

Page 95

For all the indoor sports a Casino has been erected,
far enough away so that the music, dancing, the sharp
clangor of bowling, the singing of extemporized glee-clubs,
and the enthusiasm of audiences at amateur theatricals
and the like do not disturb the peaceful slumbers of
those who retire early. While Tahoe Tavern itself
is sui generis in that it is the most wonderful
combination of primitive simplicity with twentieth
century luxury, the Casino is even more remarkable.
Its interior finish is the work of a nature artist.
Its porches immediately overlook the Lake, and when
one has wearied of dancing there is a witchery as
rare and subtle as it is delightful to sit in the
subdued light overlooking the ripples of the moonlit
water, sipping some liquid refreshment, eating an
ice or chatting with a suitable partner.

Here a fine orchestra discourses sweet music, moving
pictures are regularly shown, lectures and concerts
occasionally provided, besides all the conveniences
for private card-parties and other pleasures that
fashionable visitors expect for their entertainment.

[Illustration: Ballroom in the Casino, Tahoe
Tavern]

[Illustration: Tahoe Tavern from Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Path in the Woods by Lake Tahoe,
Tahoe Tavern]

[Illustration: Morning Service at the Chapel
of the Transfiguration, Tahoe Tavern]

Ruskin has somewhere brought out the idea in his finest
phraseology that nowhere can man so readily worship
God as in the presence of the most beautiful of His
works in Nature. This is readily apparent at
Tahoe, hence the summer visitors and others of religious
trend will delight to learn that churches for both
Catholic and Episcopal worshipers have been erected
not far from the Tavern. The Catholic Church
was dedicated Sept. 10, 1911. It has a seating
capacity of a hundred and seventy-five. Its location
was chosen with an eye to the beautiful, being on
Tahoe Heights, and is less than fifteen minutes’
walk from the Tavern.

The Episcopal “Church of the Transfiguration”
is unique in that it is an open air building, the
altar only being roofed. Towering pines stand
as aisles and the vaulted ceiling is the clear blue
dome of heaven. Rustic and simple, it harmonizes
exquisitely with its surroundings, and strangely insensible
must that worshiper be who, as he kneels in this Nature
shrine, and the organ peals forth its solemn notes,
with a wonderful accompaniment of hundreds of singing
birds, and the ascending incense of a thousand flowers,
does not feel his own soul lifted into a higher and
more spiritual mental frame.

Page 96

One of the chief troubles about a hotel like Tahoe
Tavern is that it is too tempting, too
luxurious, too seductive to the senses.
The cool, delicious breezes from the Lake make the
nights heavenly for sleep. With Sancho Panza
we cry aloud: “Blessed be the man that
invented sleep,” and we add: “Blessed
be the man that invented cool nights to sleep in.”
And I have no fault to find with the full indulgence
in sleep. It is good for the weary man or woman.
It is well to make up arrears, to pay oneself the
accumulated debts of insomnia and tossing and restlessness
with an abundance of calm, dreamless, restful sleep.
Nay, not only would I have men claim their arrearage,
but lay in a surplus stock against future emergencies,
future drafts upon their bank account of “restorer.”

Nor would I find any fault with the allurements of
the Lake, either for swimming, boating, “launching,”
canoeing or fishing. Indulge them all to your
heart’s desire and you will not only be none
the worse, but immeasurably better for every hour
of yielding. A plunge every morning is stimulating,
invigorating and jolly. It clears the brain,
sets the blood racing up and down one’s spine,
arms, fingers, legs and toes, and sweeps the cobwebs
out of the brain. A row is equally good.
It pulls on the muscles of the lower back, as well
as the arms, chest and shoulders. It drives away
Bright’s disease and banishes asthma and lung
trouble. It makes one breathe deep and long and
strong, and when inbreathing, one can take in power
from Tahoe’s waters, forests, mountains and
snow-fields. It means a purifying of the blood,
a clearing of the brain, a sending of a fuller supply
of gastric juices to the stomach, of digestive sauces
to the palate, and a corresponding stimulus to the
whole body, which now responds with vim, energy, buoyancy
and exuberance to all calls made upon it by the spirit.

So with walking through the woods, by the Lake, along
the River Trail, up the mountains. The results
are the same until the man who hates and despises
the poets shouts out with glee and exclaims: “Them’s
my sentiments!” when you throw out with fervor
such lines as:

Oh! the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock
up to rock, The strong rending of boughs from the
fir-tree, the cool silver shock Of the plunge in a
pool’s living water... How good is man’s
life, the mere living! how fit to employ All the heart
and the soul and the senses forever in joy!

While all the conventional amusements are provided
at Tahoe Tavern a large number of the guests, like
myself, find much pleasure in feeding and making friends
with the chipmunks, which have been so fostered and
befriended that there are scores of them, most
of them so fearless as to climb into the laps, eat
from the hands, run over the shoulders, and even explore
the pockets of those who bring nuts and other dainties
for their delectation. Children and adults, even

Page 97

gray-haired grandpas and grandmas, love these tiny
morsels of animation, with their quick, active, nervous
movements, their simulations of fear and their sudden
bursts of half-timorous confidence. With big
black eyes, how they squat and watch, or stand, immovable
on their hind legs, their little forepaws held as if
in petition, solemnly, seriously, steadily watch,
watch, watching, until they are satisfied either that
you are all right, or are to be shunned. For,
with a whisk of the tail, they either dart towards
you, or run in the other direction and hide in the
brush, climb with amazing speed up a tree, or rush
into their holes in the ground.

Some of them are such babies that they cannot be many
months old, and they feel the friendly atmosphere
into which they have been born. And it is an
interesting sight to see a keen, stern, active business
man from “the city” saunter with his wife
after lunch or dinner, sit down on the steps leading
down to the water’s edge, or on a tree stump,
or squat down on his haunches anywhere on the walk,
the lawn, or the veranda, fish some nuts out of his
pocket and begin to squeak with his lips to attract
the chipmunks. Sometimes it is a learned advocate
of the law, or a banker, or a wine-merchant, or the
manager of a large commission-house. It seems
to make no difference. The “chips”
catch them all, and every one delights in making friends
with them.

Here is a tiny little chap, watching me as I loll
on the stairs. His black, twinkling eye fixes
itself on me. He is making sure. Suddenly
he darts toward my outstretched fingers where a peanut
is securely held. He seizes it with his sharp
teeth, but I hold on. Then with his little paws
he presses and pushes, while he hangs on to the nut
with a grip that will not be denied. If he doesn’t
get it all, he succeeds in snapping off a piece and
then, either darting off, with a quick whisk of his
tail, to enjoy it in his chosen seclusion, or, squatting
down on his hind legs, he holds the delicious morsel
between his fore-paws and chews away with a rapidity
as astonishing as it is interesting and amusing.

Now a fat old fellow—­he looks like a grandpa
in age—­comes up. He is equally suspicious
at first, takes his preliminary reconnaissance, darts
forward and just about reaches you, when he darts away
again. Only for a moment however. On he
comes, seizes the nut, and eats it then and there,
or darts off with inconceivable rapidity, up the tree
trunk to a branch twenty, forty feet up, and then sits
in most cunning and cute posture, but in just
as big a hurry and in equally excitable fashion to
eat his lunch as if he were within reach.

Sometimes half a dozen or more of them, big and little,
will surround you. One leaps upon your knee,
another comes into your lap, while another runs all
over your back and shoulders. Now and again two
aim at the same time for the same nut, and then, look
out. They are selfish little beggars and there
is an immense amount of human nature in such tiny
creatures. The bigger one wants the morsel and
chases the smaller one away, and he is so mad about
it and gets so in earnest that sometimes he chases
the other fellow so far that he forgets what it was
all about. He loses the nut himself, but, anyhow,
he has prevented the other fellow from getting it.
How truly human!

Page 98

Then the younger one, or the smaller one, or the older
one, will whisk himself up a tree, perch on a branch
and begin to scold, or he climbs to the top of a stump,
or a rock, or merely stands upright without any foreign
aid, and how he can “Chip, chip, chip, chip!”
His piercing little shriek makes many a stranger to
his voice and ways wonder what little bird it is that
has so harsh a cry, and he keeps at it so persistently
that again you say, How human! and you wonder whether
it is husband scolding wife, or wife husband, or—­any
of the thousand and one persons who, because they
have the power, use it as a right to scold the other
thousand and one poor creatures who have to submit,
or think they have (which is pretty much the same
thing).

These proceedings at Tahoe Tavern are diversified
by the presence of a friendly bluejay. He is
one of the smartest birds in the world. Some
relation, no doubt, to the bird told of by Mark Twain
in his Tramp Abroad. This bluejay has
watched the visitors and the chipmunks until he has
become extra wise. He has noticed that the latter
toil not neither do they spin and yet neither Solomon
Levi nor Kelly feed more sumptuously or more often
than do they, simply because they have succeeded in
beguiling the hearts of the guests who are so bored
with each other that association with the “lower”
animals is a great relief. So he has started
the “friendly chipmunk” role. He stifles
his raucous cry, he puts on a shy, timid and yet friendly
demeanor. He flies conveniently near, and gives
forth a gentle note, asking, please, your kind
and favorable attention to the fact that he is a bluejay.
As soon as he sees your eye upon him, he hops a little
nearer; not too near, however, either to mislead you
or to put himself in your hands, but just near enough
to tempt you to try to tempt him. You hold out
a nut, and then, with a quick dart and a sharp peck
with a bill trained to certain and sure work, your
thumb and finger lose that which they held, and Mr.
Bluejay is eating it in perfect security well beyond
your reach. Oh, he is a fascinating creature is
this bunch of beautiful blue feathers decorating the
harshest voice of all birddom in the region of Lake
Tahoe.

But birds, squirrels, flowers, scenery, sports, worship,
fine music, the best kind of food, “air the
angel’s breathe,” and sleep recuperative
enough to revivify the old and decrepit, fishing, rowing,
swimming and the like are not all that need fill one’s
days at Tahoe Tavern.

Hike[1] out, afoot or horseback. Take
the trails. Get Bob Watson, or one of his under-studies,
to pilot you to Watson Peak and lake, go to Ellis,
Squaw or a score of other peaks, visit the various
Sierran lakes, or take a camping out or hunting trip
to Hell Hole, the Yosemite, or any one of the scenic
spots, one, two, five, or ten days away. Then,
my word for it, you will return home “a new man,”
life will put on a new meaning, and sensations long
since lost will come back with unthought-of force,
for you will have “regained your youth”—­that
dream of the old of all the ages.

Page 99

[Footnote 1: This word, slang or not, is finely
expressive, and is already fully established in the
accepted nomenclature of mountain climbers.]

There are a number of interesting walks, drives and
automobile trips which may be taken from the Tavern,
besides the lakeshore walks which are always interesting.
Indian Camp is half a mile away; Tahoe City, a little
further, and here the interesting Fremont howitzer,
to whose history I have devoted a separate chapter,
may be seen; Tavern Spring, a beautiful walk through
the woods, one and a quarter miles; the Fish Hatchery,
a mile away, where all the processes of hatching various
kinds of trout before they are distributed to the different
lakes and streams may be witnessed.

To those who prefer longer walks, or horseback rides,
there are the Logging Camp, three and a third miles;
Idlewyld, four miles; Stanford Rock, five miles; Ward
Peak, six miles; Blackwood Creek Dairy, six miles;
Carnelian Bay, six miles; and Twin Peaks, seven miles.
Several of these interesting places can be reached
also by automobile.

An especially delightful walk or horseback ride is
by the Truckee River Trail to Deer Park Inn, six and
a half miles, and thence two miles farther to Five
Lakes, near which the waters divide, one stream flowing
into the Rubicon, thence into the Sacramento and out
by the Golden Gate into the Pacific Ocean; the other
by Bear Creek into the Truckee River, thence into
Pyramid Lake in the heart of the Nevada desert.

Automobile trips from the Tavern are numerous, depending
entirely upon the length of time one can give to them.
Chief of all is the Tahoe Boulevard trip around the
Lake to Tallac, and thence on by Lakeside and by Cave
Rock to Glenbrook, a distance of fifty miles.
Hobart Lumber Mills, twenty-two miles, are well worth
a visit to those who have never seen modern methods
of making lumber; Independence Lake, thirty miles,
is easily reached in two hours, and it is one of the
charming spots of the High Sierras; Webber Lake, forty-three
miles, is another exquisite beauty spot, where there
is an excellent Country Club House. Reno is reached
by three routes, all of them interesting, and each
well worth traveling over. An excellent trip is
to leave the Tavern after breakfast, ride on the Tahoe
Boulevard to Glenbrook for lunch, then over to Carson
City, where a brief visit can be made at the Capital
of the State of Nevada, the Indian School and the
prehistoric foot-prints, that for years have been the
wonder of the scientists of the world. Then on
to Reno, where at the Riverside Hotel, mine host Gosse,
one of the noted figures of the hotel world of the
West, will accord a hearty welcome. Next morning
Pyramid Lake can be visited and the return to the
Tavern made by way of Truckee.

For those who enjoy motor-boating on the Lake excellent
provision is made. The Lake Tahoe Railway and
Transportation Company own several steam and gasoline
launches, with varied capacities,—­from six
to two hundred and fifty passengers—­full
particulars of which can always be obtained.

Page 100

Fishing boats in large numbers are to be had either
with or without oarsmen, together with full equipment
for fishing or hunting trips.

The Tavern stables are prepared to supply all reasonable
demands for saddle-horses, driving-teams, and pack-animals
for hunting trips, and arrangements can be made for
equipment and guides for mountain trips, of any duration,
from a couple of days to three months or more.
There is also a garage with first class cars and experienced
chauffeurs for hire.

[Illustration: Ladies’ Lounging Room, the
Casino, Tahoe Tavern]

[Illustration: The Front of Tahoe Tavern from
a Table in the Dining-Room]

[Illustration: The Launch Catalini, Lake
Tahoe]

[Illustration: Bathing in Lake Tahoe, Near Tahoe
Tavern]

CHAPTER XV

TRAIL TRIPS IN THE TAHOE REGION

To nature-lovers, more or less active, the trails
all around and about Lake Tahoe are a source of perpetual
surprise and delight. I know of no region in
California that possesses such a wealth of trails—­not
even the Yosemite or Mt. Shasta regions.
The Lake is an ever-present friend. From ridges,
peaks, summits and passes, near at hand or scores
of miles away, it never fails to satisfy the eye.
Again and again, when one is least expecting it, a
turn in the trail, or a few steps forward or backward
on a summit ridge brings it into sight, and its pure
blue surface, now seen smooth and glossy as a mirror,
again shining in pearly brilliancy in the sun, or
gently rippled by a calm morning or evening zephyr,
or tossed into white caps by a rising wind-storm,
pelted with fierce rain or hail, or glimpsed only through
sudden openings in a snowstorm, at sunrise or sunset,
each with its own dazzling brilliancies—­it
always gives one a thrill and warming sensation at
the heart.

Then, too, the number of peaks to the summits of which
trails have been cut, so that the walker, or the horseback
rider may have easy access, are many and varied.
In all there are not less than forty peaks, each of
which is well worth a trip, each presenting some feature
of its own that renders its personality worth cultivating.

In this and other chapters, I present my own experiences
as illustrative to give the general reader an idea
of what may be expected if he (or she) is induced
to try one of the chief delights of a sojourn in this
scenic region.

WATSON’S PEAK AND LAKE

Leaving Tahoe Tavern, crossing the bridge to Tahoe
City, the trail leaves the main road on the left about
a mile and a half further on, passing the horse pasture
on the right. Near Tahoe City is the Free Camping
Ground owned by the Transportation Company. This
has a mile frontage overlooking the Lake, and scores
of people habitually avail themselves of the privilege,
bringing their own outfits with them, as, at present,
there are no arrangements made for renting tents and
the needed furnishings to outsiders.

Page 101

The slope up which the trail now ascends with gradual
rise is covered with variegated chaparral, making
a beautiful mountain carpet and cushion for the
eye. To the foot and body it is entangling
and annoying, placing an effectual barrier before any
but the most strenuous, athletic and determined of
men.

Now the white firs, with their white bark, and the
red-barked yellow pines begin to appear. They
accompany us all the rest of the way to the peak and
lake.

Soon we cross Burton Creek, a mere creek except during
the snow-melting or rain-falling time. It empties
into Carnelian Bay. Burton was one of the old-timers
who owned the Island ranch near the Lake shore, and
who came to the Tahoe region at the time of the Squaw
Valley mining excitement. When the “bottom
fell out” of that he did a variety of things
to earn a living, one of which was to cut bunch grass
from Lake Valley and bring it on mules over the pass
that bears his name, boat it across to Lakeside at
the south end of the Lake, on the Placerville and
Virginia City stage-road, and there sell it to the
stage station. Hay thus gathered was worth in
those days from $80 to $100 per ton.

About two and a half miles from the Tavern we come
to a wood road, which is followed for half a mile.
Years ago all these slopes were denuded of their valuable
timber, which was “chuted” down to the
Lake and then towed across to the sawmills at Glenbrook.
The remnants are now being gathered up and used as
fuel for the hotel and the steamboats.

Here and there are charming little nurseries of tiny
and growing yellow pines and white fir. How sweet,
fresh and beautiful they look,—­the Christmas
trees of the fairies. And how glad they make the
heart of the real lover of his country, to whom “conservation”
is not a fad, but an imperative necessity for the
future—­an obligation felt towards the generations
yet to come.

Of entirely different associations, and arousing a
less agreeable chain of memories, are the ruined log-cabins
of the wood-cutter’s and logger’s days.
Several of these are passed.

As we re-enter the trail, Watson’s Peak, 8500
feet high, with its basaltic crown, looms before us.
At our feet is a big bed of wild sunflowers, their
flaring yellow and gold richly coloring the more somber
slopes. Here I once saw a band of upwards of 2000
sheep, herded by a Basque, one of that strange European
people who seem especially adapted by centuries of
such life to be natural shepherds. Few of them
speak much American, but they all know enough, when
you ask them how many sheep they have, to answer,
“About sixteen hundred.” The limit
allowed on any government reserve in any one band is,
I think, 1750, and though a passing ranger may be
sure there are more, he is nonplussed when, on his
making question, the owner or the shepherd shrugs
his shoulders and says, “If you don’t believe
me, they’re there. Go and count ’em!”

Before the officials treated some of the Basque shepherds
with what seemed to be too great severity there were
numerous forest fires on the reserve. These men
were generally both self-willed and ignorant, and
we passed by at this spot a clump of finely growing
firs, which had been destroyed by a fire started by
a shepherd the year before.

Page 102

Watson assures me that he has personally known many
cases where a tree had been blown across a trail,
and the shepherd would stop his sheep, set fire to
the “wind-fall” and then leave it to burn—­sometimes
allowing it to smolder for months, to the infinite
peril of the forest should an arousing wind blow the
fire into life and make it spread.

Fire notices, however, now are everywhere, and a few
severe punishments have largely put a stop to all
carelessness on the part of shepherds, let alone their
culpable neglect. There are still campers and
automobilists and others, of the so-called superior
and educated race, who need as severe lessons as some
of these ignorant Basque shepherds. They knock
down the forest-service placards, throw down matches,
cigar and cigarette stumps, and often go off and leave
a campfire burning. The time is rapidly coming
when severer and swifter penalties will be meted out
to this class of culprits, for not only are their
actions against the law, but they jeopardize all property
in and near to the forests, as well as the lives, sometimes,
of many innocent men, women and children, besides
destroying the value of the mountain slopes as watersheds.

As our trail winds and ascends, the rotting stumps
of trees cut years ago meet the eye on every hand,
until at length, when at about 7000 feet altitude
we see no more. The indications are clear that,
though the timber is abundant above this elevation,
for some reason or other cutting ceased. Careful
observation reveals a possible reason for this.
From this point on up the soil is both thin and poor,
and though the trees seem to have flourished they
are, in reality, gnarled, twisted, stunted and unfit
for a good quality of lumber. Many of them are
already showing signs of decay, possibly a proof that
they grew rapidly and are rotting with equal or greater
speed.

[Illustration: Pleasure Party on the ‘Wild
Goose’, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Looking Toward the Casino, Tahoe
Tavern, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: A Trail Party About to Leave Tahoe
Tavern]

[Illustration: On the Trail Returning from the
Summit of Mt. Tallac]

At this elevation, 7000 to 8000 feet, the red fir
begins to appear. It is an attractive and ever-pleasing
tree, its dark red bark soon making it a familar friend.

How remarkably a woodsman can read what would be an
unintelligible jumble of facts to a city man.
Here on one trip we found a tree. Its top was
smitten off and removed a distance of forty to fifty
feet. Parts of the tree were scattered for a
distance of two hundred yards. What caused it?
The unobservant man would have passed it by, and the
observant, though untrained and inexperienced, would
have wondered without an answer. And yet a few
minutes’ observation, with the interpretation
of Bob Watson, made it as clear as the adding of two
to two. The lightning had struck the tree, and
shot the top off as if lifted and carried away bodily,
at the same time scattering the pieces in every direction.
Then, it had seemed to jump from this tree to another,
out of the side of which it had torn a large piece,
as if, like a wild beast in angry fury, it had bitten
out a giant mouthful of something it hated. It
had then jumped—­where? There was no
sign. It simply disappeared.

Page 103

Near by we found quite a nursery of graceful, dainty
and attractive young firs; “Noah’s ark
trees,” I always feel like calling them, for
they remind one constantly of the trees found in the
Noah’s arks of childhood days, made by the Swiss
during the long winter nights in their mountain chalets,
where the trees are of a similar character to those
of the Sierras.

Near to the point at which we turn to the left for
Watson’s Peak, and to the right for Watson’s
Lake, is a delicious, cool, clear spring, which I
instinctively called, “the Spring of the Angels.”
When Bob asked the why of the name, the answer
quickly came: “It is up so high and is
so pure and good.” The elevation is about
8000 feet. We take to the left.

Here also is found the mountain pine, its fine, smooth,
black bark contrasting markedly with that of the firs
and pines further down. It is generally found
not lower than this elevation around Lake Tahoe.

Near by are some scattered hemlocks. This tree
is found even higher than the mountain pine, and is
seldom found lower than 8000 feet. In these higher
elevations one sees what a struggle some of the trees
have for mere existence. Again and again a mountain
pine will be found, a tree perhaps fifty feet high,
bowed over almost to the ground. This was done
by snow. Given the slightest list from the perpendicular
when the heavy, wet snow falls upon it, it is bound
slowly to be forced over. If it is a tough, strong
tree it may sustain the weight until melting time
comes, when it is released. But it never becomes
upright again. On the other hand if a cold snap
comes after the snow has bent it over, it is no uncommon
thing for it to snap right in two, eight, ten or more
feet from the ground.

Now we stand on the summit. This peak and its
attendant lake were named after my incomparable guide,
Robert Watson, and it is well that the name of so
admirable a man should be preserved in the region
through which he has intelligently and kindly guided
so many interested visitors. The elevation is
8500 feet.

What a wonderful panorama is spread out before us.
Close by, just across the valley in which nestles
Watson’s Lake, 7900 feet elevation, is Mt.
Pluto, 8500 feet, the sides of which are covered with
a dense virgin forest, thus presenting a magnificent
and glorious sight. There is no trail through
this forest though sheep are taken there to graze
in the quiet meadows secluded on the heights.

Further to the east and north is Mt. Rose, 10,800
feet, on which is perched the Meteorological Observatory
of the University of Nevada. Beyond is the Washoe
Range.

Even before reaching the summit we gain a fine view,
through the trees, of Castle Peak, 9139 feet, while
further north is Mt. Lola, 9167 feet. Close
at hand is a glorious specimen of red fir, fully four
and a half feet in diameter. Below us to the west
is a patch of vivid green, known as Antone Meadows.
It was named after a Switzer who lived there years
ago and whose children now own it. Not far away
is Round Meadow, locally known as Bear-Trap Meadow,
for one may still find there an old bear-trap that
hunters were wont to use thirty or forty years ago.
In this meadow is the cabin of the Forest Ranger, which
we shall see on the return trip.

Page 104

Looking now over Lake Tahoe to the western horizon
we see, over Tahoe Tavern, and a little west of north,
Needle Peak (8920 feet), to the right of which is
Lyon Peak (about 9000 feet). A trifle to the south
of Needle Peak is Granite Chief, followed by Squaw
Peak (8960 feet), Ward Peak (8665 feet), and Twin
Peak (8924 feet) the one to the right having the appearance
of a buffalo feeding.

While these peaks appear in a line, and as if belonging
to the same range, a glimpse at the map will reveal
that they are some miles apart.

As we look further south, across the head of Ward
and Blackwood Creek Canyons, the mountains do not
seem so high, though we discern Barker Peak (over
8000 feet).

Still further southward is Ellis Peak (8700 feet)
apparently well timbered. It was named after
Jock Ellis, who, on the further side, had a dairy
ranch for a while. But when he found the cream
would not rise in the colder periods of the year,
he gave up his dairy, and went to raising sheep.
In the summer months, however, he had no trouble in
disposing of all the butter he could make, or milk
and cream he cared to sell, for he was on the road
from Georgetown which passed by Rubicon Springs to
McKinney’s on the Lake.

On the ridge to the left are the Rubicon Peaks (9199
feet) three of them apparently, all closely overlooking
Lake Tahoe, and leading the eye down to Sugar Pine
Point, which is at the south end of McKinney’s
Bay.

To the west of Rubicon Peaks is Phipps Peak (9120
feet), and a little farther back Mt. Tallac (9185
feet), while farther to the south is Ralston Peak
(about 9500 feet), at this angle and distance appearing
not unlike one of the domes of the Yosemite Valley.
Near by, to the right, is Pyramid Peak (10,020 feet),
though from here it presents a very different appearance
from that it holds when viewed from Mt. Tallac.
Still farther to the right is Tell’s Peak (9125
feet), apparently at the end of a richly timbered
ridge. Tell was an old Switzer who used to keep
a dairy ranch on the slopes of the mountain bearing
his name.

At the extreme south of Lake Tahoe stands Round Top
(10,130 feet), to the left of which are the three
great peaks of the Tahoe region, Freel’s (10,900
feet), Job’s (10,500 feet) and Job’s Sister
(10,820 feet). Freel was one of the old timers
who used to have a cattle-range on the slopes.

Then, allowing the eye to follow along the southeastern
curve of the Lake up to the mountains on the eastern
side, the first great depression is the pass over
which the Placerville road goes down the Kingsbury
grade to Genoa. At the foot of the grade, at the
entrance to the Carson Valley is Van Sickle’s
old place, one of the early day stage-stations on
the Placerville road.

Page 105

Van Sickle was a noted character, a fearless, rude
pioneer, but well liked and highly respected.
His fame was materially enhanced when he killed Sam
Brown, one of the noted desperadoes of the Tahoe region
in the days of the Virginia City mining excitement.
Tradition says that Brown was a fire-eating southerner,
from Texas, a man proud of his bad record of several
murders. He was notorious in Virginia City, and
when the war broke out was one of the outspoken heralds
and advocates of secession. He had trouble with
Van Sickle and had threatened to kill him on sight.
Coming to the place for this purpose he himself was
killed, for Van Sickle secured a shot-gun, “laid
for him,” and shot him. A great sense of
relief was felt by many people at this, what was then
considered not only a justifiable but highly laudable
act, for Brown was seeking to raise a body of men
to go South and fight in the Civil War. This
event had much to do with stopping too vigorous advocacy
of the claims of the South from that time on in Virginia
City and the immediate neighborhood.

The road around the Lake forks at a place originally
known as Edgewood’s, the branch to the left
continuing along the eastern shore of Lake Tahoe,
past Round Mound and Cave Rock to Glenbrook, where
it swings over the grade to the east and over the
summit, divides, one branch going down Clear Creek
Canyon, and the other down King’s Canyon to
Carson City. It is thirteen and a half miles from
Glenbrook to Carson by way of King’s Canyon,
and automobiles use this route, while stages run regularly
over the other route via Clear Creek Canyon which
is only fourteen and a quarter miles to Carson.

It was during the lumbering days at Glenbrook that
the railway ran from the mills to the summit, nine
miles, carrying carloads of lumber there, which were
then unloaded and shot down the water-flume to Carson
City.

Letting the eye still follow the eastern shore of
Lake Tahoe completing the circuit, northward, Snow
Valley Peak and Marietta Peak are reached. Under
the latter, to the southwest, is Marlette Lake, largely
an artificial body over a mile long and half a mile
wide, which is the reservoir for the water supply
of Virginia City. The course of the conveying
flume may distinctly be traced, for part of its twenty-four
miles of length. Both peak and lake were named
after S.H. Marlette, once Surveyor-General of
Nevada, and a well-known character of the earlier
mining days.

Just below Marlette Lake, almost directly facing Tahoe
Tavern, are several scarrings, running almost parallel
to each other and going in the most direct fashion
to Lake Tahoe. These denote where the flume broke
and the water made its own rude channels to the Lake
beneath.

From this inadequate and imperfect description it
can readily be imagined what a sublime and comprehensive
view is afforded from Watson’s Peak. Every
visitor to Tahoe should take the trip, especially
those who stay for a few days or longer at Tahoe Tavern.

Page 106

* * * *
*

WATSON LAKE

About half a mile northwest from the summit of Watson
Peak is Watson Lake, 7900 feet. It is about 300
yards long by 250 yards broad, hence rudely oval in
shape. While about fifty feet deep in the center,
it shallows toward the edges, where lilies abound,
and then becomes mere marsh. Practically it is
surrounded by trees. Restocked with a variety
of fish (trout) in large numbers each year, it is one
of the best fishing lakes at the northern end of Lake
Tahoe, and a most enjoyable day to the angler is to
start early, take his lunch along, and spend the day
there.

To those who are not anglers this same day can be
spent in the quiet enjoyment of the trees, flowers,
lake and sky.

The outlet from the lake is by Deer Creek, and thence
into the Truckee not far from the site of the old
mining-camp of Knoxville.

The return trip to Tahoe Tavern is made through a
virgin forest, on a ridge between Watson Lake and
the Truckee Valley, the trail having been outlined
only about five years ago. Later the Forest Rangers
considerably improved it, until now it is a very easy
and comfortable trail to traverse. One notices
here the especial “blaze” on the trees,
of the rangers. It consists of a perpendicular
parallelogram with a square above, thus

[Illustration: ‘Ranger’s Blaze’]

Wherever this blaze is found everybody in the region
knows it for a ranger’s blaze, denoting a trail
leading to a ranger’s cabin.

On this ride one has a wonderful illustration of the
popular fallacy in woodcraft that moss is always found
on the north side of the trees. Here the moss
is mainly on the west. The fact is the moss is
generally found on the side from which the rain-storms
come, and here they are mainly from the south and
southwest. A mile or so away on the trail to
Watson’s Lake the moss is all on the southwest
side of the trees.

Most of the trees here are red fir and mountain pine,
some of them being of large size, and noble specimens.

A little further on a fine opening reveals Deer Creek,
through which the waters of Watson Lake flow to the
Truckee. It was nearing the hour of sunset when
I reached this point, and the trees were glowing with
flaming gold, reminding one of the pictures John Enneking,
the wonderful Boston artist, so loves to paint, while
below the water gleamed like dazzling diamonds.

Along here the side of the ridge below the trail seemed
as if plowed into a number of rudely parallel lines.
These were sheep-trails made as the sheep followed
each other over the softer soil of the mountain side.

A mile and a half from Watson Lake we came to a telephone
box. This was the signal box of the Forest Rangers
connecting with Lake Tahoe, five miles away, Truckee,
eight miles, Shaffer’s Mills, five miles and
thence to Brockway, six miles. In the direction
we were going it was but one mile to the ranger’s
log-cabin in Round Meadow.

Page 107

In the winter time the ranger often finds it difficult
to keep the line in operation. The damp snow
falling upon the wire, clings to it, freezes and keeps
receiving additions until it is bigger than a man’s
arm, and the weight breaks it down.

As we rode along we saw a fat porcupine, weighing
full twenty-five pounds and deliberately walking up
the slope near by, as if going to its den in the rocks,
but, though we yelled and shouted, it scorned to notice
us and indifferently went its way. A horned owl
now and then hooted and bade us begone, while a badger
came out from his hole, but hurried back when he saw
or smelled who we were.

Now and again we caught marvelous sunset reflections
on Lake Tahoe through the trees, and on the eastern
mountains was a peach glow more soft and beautiful
than the famous Alpen glow.

Soon the sun was gone, and then, as we rode through
the’ dark aisles of the trees the stars came
out and shone with dazzling splendor overhead.
Just as we left the ranger’s cabin a long dark
corridor of majestic trees framed in a patch of black
velvet in the upper sky, and there, in the very center,
shining in resplendent glory, was Venus, the evening
star.

The wind began to blow a regular cyclone from the
north, so the roaring of the trees told us, but we
were largely sheltered, and as we looked up through
the dancing and whirling tree-tops there was not a
cloud in the sky.

Thus we returned to the Tavern, dramatically and gloriously
bringing our delightful and easy trip to an end.

I have been rather prolix, and have entered much more
fully into detail than some may deem necessary in
the account of this trip, for two important reasons.
It is a trip that none should fail to take, and I
have made it a sort of general account, giving in broad
outline what the visitor may expect of any of the
peak trips in the vicinity of Tahoe Tavern. It
goes without saying that, constantly, from a score
or more outlook points, the eye finds its resting
place upon Lake Tahoe, each view being different and
more charming than the one that preceded it.

* * * *
*

TO SQUAW VALLEY, GRANITE CHIEF PEAK, FIVE LAKES AND DEER PARK SPRINGS

Leaving Tahoe Tavern we cross the Truckee River and
ride down on the north side. The flowing Truckee
is placid and smooth, save where eager trout jump
and splash. The meadows are richly green and the
mountain slope on the further side is radiant with
virgin tree-life in joyous exuberance. Jays are
harshly calling, chipmunks are excitedly running,
the pure blue of the sky over-arches all, the wine
of the morning is in the air, and we are glad we are
alive. A spring of pure cold water on the right,
about a mile out, tempts us to a delicious morning
draught.

A little further down is “Pap.” Church’s
“Devil’s Playground,” “Devil’s
Post,” and devil’s this, that and the other,
out of which he gained considerable satisfaction while
driving stage-coach between Truckee and Tahoe in the
days before the railroad.

Page 108

It is well carefully to observe these singular lava
puddingstone masses, for, according to the theory
of John Le Conte, the eminent physicist, recounted
in another chapter, these were the restraining masses
that made the Lake at one time eighty or a hundred
feet higher than it is to-day.

Four miles from the Tavern we pass Engineer Von Schmidt’s
old dam, for the history of which see the chapter
on “The Truckee River.”

Near Deer Park Station is another spring on the right.
In the old stage days “Pap.” Church
always stopped here and gave his passengers the opportunity
to drink of the water, while he made discourse as to
its remarkable coldness. Five years ago a land
slide completely buried it, and the road had to be
cut through again. Ever since the spring has
been partially clogged and does not flow freely, but
it is cold enough to make one’s teeth ache.

In the winter of 1881-2 a land-and-snow-slide occurred
a little beyond Deer Park Station. Watson was
carrying the mail on snow-shoes at the time and saw
it. There had been a five foot fall of snow in
early March, and a week or two later came a second
fall of seven feet. Something started the mass,
and down it came, rushing completely across the river
and damming it up, high on the other side, and the
course of the slide can clearly be seen to-day.
It is now, however, almost covered with recent growth
of chaparral, and thus contributed to one of the most
beautiful effects of light and shade I ever saw.
The mountain slope on one side was completely covered
with a growth of perfect trees. Through these
came pencillings of light from the rising sun, casting
alternate rulings of light and shadow in parallel lines
on the glossy surface of the chaparral beyond.
The effect was enhanced by the fleecy and sunshiny
clouds floating in the cobalt blue above.

Near the mouth of Bear Creek the river makes a slight
curve and also a drop at the same time, and the road,
making a slight rise, presents the view of a beautiful
stretch of roaring and foaming cascades. Here
the canyon walls are of bare, rocky ridges, of white
and red barrenness, with occasional patches of timber,
but very different from the tree-clad slopes that
we have enjoyed hitherto all the way down from the
Tavern.

Beyond is a little grove of quaking aspens. Their
leaves, quivering in the morning breeze, attract the
eye. Crossing the railway, the road makes a climb
up a hill that at one time may have formed a natural
dam across the river. Here is a scarred tree
on the left where Handsome Jack ran his stage off
the bank in 1875, breaking his leg and seriously injuring
his passengers.

Crossing the next bridge to the left at the mouth
of Squaw Creek, six miles from the Tavern, on a small
flat by the side of the river is the site of the town
of Claraville, one of the reminders of the Squaw Valley
mining excitement.

Just below this bridge is an old log chute, and a
dam in the river. This dam backed up the water
and made a “cushion” into which the logs
came dashing and splashing, down from the mountain
heights above. They were then floated down the
river to the sawmill at Truckee.

Page 109

At Knoxville we forded the river at a point where
a giant split bowlder made a tunnel and the water
dashed through with roaring speed. Retracing
our steps for a mile or so we came to the Wigwam Inn,
a wayside resort and store just at the entrance to
Squaw Valley. To the right flows Squaw Creek,
alongside of which is the bed of the logging railway
belonging to the Truckee Lumber Co. It was abandoned
two or three years ago, when all the available logs
of the region had been cut. Most of the timber-land
between Squaw Creek and Truckee, on both sides of
the river, was purchased years ago, from its locators,
by the Truckee Lumber Company. But Scott Bros.,
purchased a hundred and sixty acres from the locators
and established a dairy in Squaw Valley, supplying
the logging-camps with milk and butter for many years
past.

For forty years or more this region has been the scene
of active logging, the work having begun under the
direction of Messrs. Bricknell and Kinger, of Forest
Hill. The present president of the Truckee Lumber
Co. is Mr. Hazlett, who married the daughter of Kinger.
This company, after the railway removed from Glenbrook
and was established between Tahoe and Truckee, lumbered
along the west side of Tahoe as far as Ward Creek.

Entering the valley we find it free from willows,
open and clear. The upper end is surrounded,
amphitheater fashion, by majestic mountains, rising
to a height of upwards of 9000 feet. Clothed with
sage-brush at the lower end and rich grass further
up, even to the very base of the mountains, it is,
in some respects, the prettiest valley in the whole
of this part of the Sierra Nevadas.

The upper meadows are full of milk cows, quietly grazing
or lying down and chewing their cuds, while just beyond
the great dairy buildings is the unpretentious cottage
of the Forest Ranger. Remnants of old log chutes
remind one of the logging activities that used to be
carried on here.

One of the most observable features of Squaw Valley
is its level character. This is discussed in
the chapter on glacial action.

On the right the vein of quartz which out-crops at
Knoxville is visible in several places and the various
dump-piles show how many claimants worked on their
locations in the hope of finding profitable ore.

Half way up the valley is an Iron Spring, the oxydization
from which has gathered together a large amount of
red which the Indians still prize highly and use for
face paint.

How these suggestions excite the imagination—­old
logging chutes, mining-claims and Indians. Once
this valley rang with the clang of chains on driven
oxen, the sharp stroke of the ax as it bit into the
heart of the tree, the crash of the giant trees as
they fell, the rude snarl of the saw as it cut them
up into logs, the shout of the driver as he drove
his horses alongside the chute and hurried the logs
down to the river, the quick blast of the imprisoned
powder, the falling of shattered rocks, the emptying
of the ore or waste-bucket upon the dump—­all
these sounds once echoed to and from these hillsides
and mountain slopes.

Page 110

Now everything is as quiet and placid as a New England
pastoral scene, and only the towering mountains, snow-clad
even as late as this in the fall, suggest that we
are in the far-away wilds of the great West.

But Squaw Valley had another epoch, which it was hoped
would materially and forever destroy its quiet and
pastoral character. In the earlier days of the
California gold excitement the main road from Truckee
and Dormer Lake went into Nevada County and thus on
to Sacramento. In 1862 the supervisors of Placer
County, urged on by the merchants, sent up a gang
of men from Placerville to build a road from Squaw
Valley, into the Little American Valley, down the Forest
Hill Divide, thus hoping to bring the emigrant travel
to Forest Hill, Michigan Bluff, and other parts of
Placer County.

It was also argued that emigrants would be glad to
take this new road as all the pasture along the other
road was “eaten off.” Over this historic
road we are now about to ride.

As we look up it is a forbidding prospect. Only
brave men and sanguine would ever have dared to contemplate
such a plan. The mountain cliffs, separated and
split, arise before us as impassable barriers.
Yet one branch of the old trail used to pass through
the divide to the right, over to Hopkins Springs,
while the one that was converted into the wagon road
took the left-hand canyon to the main divide.

We now begin to ascend this road at the head of Squaw
Valley, and in five minutes, or less, are able to
decide why it was never a success. The
grade is frightful, and for an hour or more we go slowly
up it, stopping every few yards to give our horses
breath. All the way along we can trace the blazes
on the trees made over sixty years ago. It is
hard enough for horses to go up this grade, but to
pull heavily-ladened wagons—­it seems impossible
that even those giant-hearted men, used to seeing
so many impossible things accomplished, could ever
have believed that such a road could be feasible.
What wonderful, marvelous, undaunted characters they
must have been, men with wills of inflexible steel,
to overcome such obstacles and dare such hardships.
Yet there were compensations. Squaw Creek’s
clear, pellucid, snow-fed stream runs purling, babbling
or roaring and foaming by to the right. These
pioneers with their women and children had crossed
the sandy, alkali and waterless deserts. For
days and weeks they had not had water enough to keep
their faces clean, to wash the sand from their eyes.
Now, though they had come to a land of apparently
unscalable mountains and impassable rock-barriers,
they had grass for the stock, and water,—­delicious,
fresh, pure, refreshing water for themselves.
I can imagine that when they reached here they felt
it was a new paradise, and that God was especially
smiling upon them, and to such men, with such feelings,
what could daunt, what prevent, what long stay their
onward march.

As we ascend, the mountains on our right assume the
form of artificial parapets of almost white rock,
outlined against the bluest of blue skies. There
is one gray peak ahead, tinged with green. The
trail is all washed away and our horses stumble and
slide, slip and almost fall over the barren and rough
rocks, and the scattered bowlders, a devastating cloud-burst
could not wash away.

Page 111

Here is a spring on the left, hidden in a grove of
alders and willows, and now new and more fantastic
spires arise on the right. Higher up we see where
those sturdy road-builders rolled giant rocks out of
their way to make an impassable road look as if it
could be traversed.

Reaching the point at the foot of Squaw Peak at last
we look back over Squaw Valley. In the late summer
tints it is beautiful, but what must it be in the
full flush of its summer glory and perfection?
Then it must be a delight to the eye and a refreshment
to the soul. How interesting, too, it is to rehabilitate
it as a great glacial lake. One can see its pellucid
waters of clear amethystine blue and imagine the scenes
that transpired when the ancestors of the present Indians
fished, in rude dugouts, or on logs, or extemporized
rafts, upon its surface. Now it is covered with
brown, yellowish grass, with tree-clad slopes rising
from the marge.

Turning to the right we find ourselves in a country
of massive bowlders. They seem to have been broken
off from the summits above and arrested here for future
ages and movements to change or pass on.

The road grows severer than ever, and we cannot help
again picturing those old heroes driving their wagons
up, while the women and children toiled painfully
on foot up the steep and rocky slopes. Could anything
ever daunt them after this? any obstacle, however insurmountable,
discourage them? any labor, however severe, compel
them to turn back?

Though there is a deep pathos in all these memories,
the heroism of it makes our blood tingle with pride
that such men and women belonged to us, that we are
privileged to live in the land their labors, loves
and lives have sanctified.

We turn to the right; a tiny waterfall, which in the
season must be quite a sight, trickles down near by;
we are now advancing directly upon the serrated ridge
of fantastic spires that have long accompanied us.
We now find those white-seeming pinnacles are of delicate
pinks, creams, blues, slates and grays. In one
place, however, it seems for all the world as if there
were a miniature Gothic chapel built of dark, brownish-black
lava. Another small patch of the same color and
material, lower down, presents a gable end, with windows,
reminding us of the popular picture of Melrose Abbey
in the moonlight.

Now we are lined on either side by removed bowlders,
but the road! ah the road! who could ever have traveled
over it? Trees twenty feet high have now grown
up in the roadway. To the left Squaw Peak (8960
feet) towers above us, while we make the last great
pull through the rocky portion ere we come to the
easier rise to the shoulders of Granite Chief.
Here the road was graded out from the side of a granite
mountain, blasted out and built up, but it is now sadly
washed out. Further up, a broad porphyritic dyke
crosses our path, then more trees, and we come to
the gentle slope of a kind of granitic sand which

Page 112

composes the open space leading to the pass between
Granite Chief on the right, and a peculiar battlemented
rock, locally known as Fort Sumpter, on the left.
This was named by the Squaw Valley stampeders who
came over the trail in the early days of the Civil
War, when all patriots and others were excited to
the core at the news that Fort Sumpter had been fired
upon. On one of the highest points stands a juniper
on which a big blaze was cut by the early road-makers,
so that there need be no doubt as to which way the
road turned. Other nearby trees, in their wild
ruggedness and sturdy growth, remind us of a woman
whose skirts are blown about by a fierce wind.
Their appearance speaks of storms braved, battles
of wind and snow and ice and cold fought and won,
for they have neither branch nor leaf on the exposed
side, and on the other are pitiably scant.

As we cross the sandy divide, over which a wagon could
drive anywhere, we find white sage in abundance.
Expansive vistas loom before us, ahead and to the
right, while Squaw Peak now presents the appearance
of a vast sky-line crater. We seem to be standing
on the inside of it, but on the side where the wall
has disappeared. Across, the peak has a circular,
palisaded appearance, and the lower peaks to the right
seem as if they were the continuation of the wall,
making a vast crater several miles in diameter.
The plateau upon which we stand seems as if it might
have been a level spot almost near the center of the
bowl. Fort Sumpter is a part of this great crater-like
wall and Granite Chief is the end of the ridge.

As a rule there is a giant bank of snow on the saddle
over which the trail goes between Ft. Sumpter
and Granite Chief, but this year (1913) it has totally
disappeared. It has been the driest season known
for many years.

Looking back towards the Lake a glorious and expansive
view is presented. Watson Peak, Mt. Rose,
Marlette Peak, Glenbrook and the pass behind it, are
all in sight and the Lake glistening in pearly brilliancy
below.

At the end of the Squaw Peak ridge, on the right,
is a mass of andesite, looking like rude cordwood,
and just above is a mass of breccia very similar to
that found in the Truckee Valley a few miles below
Tahoe Tavern.

Below us, at the head of Squaw Creek is a small blue
pond, scarcely large and important enough to be called
a lake, yet a distinctive feature and one that would
be highly prized in a less-favored landscape.

On the very summit of the ridge we get fine views
of Mounts Ralston, Richardson, Pyramid Peak and the
whole Rock Bound Range, while close at hand to the
north is Needle Peak (8920 feet), and to the south,
Mt. Mildred (8400 feet). To our left is Fort
Sumpter, to the right the Granite Chief, and between
the two a stiff breeze is blowing.

Have you ever stood on a mountain ridge or divide
when a fierce gale was blowing, so that you were unable
to walk without staggering, and where it was hard
to get your breath, much less speak, and where it
seemed as if Nature herself had set herself the purpose
of cleansing you through and through with her sweetening
pneumatic processes? If not, you have missed
one of the blessed influences of life.

Page 113

Rough? harsh? severe? Of course, but what of
that, compared with the blessings that result.
It is things like that that teach one to love Nature.
Read John Muir’s account—­in his Mountains
of California—­and see how he reveled
in wind-storms, and even climbed into a tree and clung
to its top “like a bobolink on a reed”
in order to enjoy a storm to the full.

Immediately at our feet lie the various mazes of canyons
and ravines that make the diverse forks of the American
River. In one place is a forbidding El Capitan,
while in another we can clearly follow for miles the
Royal Gorge of this many branched Sierran river.
To the right is Castle Peak (9139 feet) to the north
and west of Donner Lake, while nearby is Tinker’s
Knob (9020 feet) leading the eye down to Hopkins’
Soda Springs. Beyond is Donner Peak (8135 feet)
pointing out the location of Summit Valley, just to
the left (west) where the trains of the Southern Pacific
send up their smoke-puffs and clouds into the air.

At our feet is the Little American Valley, in which
is the road, up the eastern portion of which we have
so toilsomely climbed. With a little pointing
out it is possible to follow the route it followed
on the balance of its steep and perilous way.
Crossing the valley beneath it zig-zagged over the
bluff to the right, through the timber to the ridge
between the North and Middle Forks, then down, down,
by Last Chance to Michigan Bluff. The reverent
man instinctively thanks God that he is not compelled
to drive a wagon, containing his household goods,
as well as his wife and children, over such roads nowadays.

Just before making the descent we succeed in getting
a suggestive glimpse of what is finely revealed on
a clear day. Slightly to the south of west is
Mount Diablo, while northwards the Marysville Buttes,
Lassen’s rugged butte, and even stately Mt.
Shasta are in distinct sight. At this time the
atmosphere is smoky with forest fires and the burning
of the tules in the Sacramento and other interior valleys,
hence our view is not a clear one.

It did not take us long to reach the old stage-station
in the Little American Valley. Here Greek George—­he
was never known by any other name—­had a
station, only the charred logs remaining to tell of
some irreverent sheep-herder or Indian who had no
regard for historic landmarks. The pile of rocks
which remain denote the presence of the chimney.
When the new stage-road was built and travel over this
road—­always very slim and precarious—­completely
declined, Greek George removed, but his log hotel
and bunk-house remained until a few years ago.

We lunch by the side of the old chimney and ruminate
over the scenes that may have transpired here in those
early days.

On our way back we pass the stumps of two large firs
which were undoubtedly cut down to supply George’s
houses with shakes. At the base of Ft. Sumpter
we leave the trail down which we have come, with the
intention of going—­without a trail—­down
Whisky Creek, over several interesting meadows to
Five Lake Creek, and thence up by the Five Lakes,
over the pass into Bear Creek Canyon, past Deer Park
to the Truckee River and thus to the Tavern.

Page 114

With such an excellent guide as Bob Watson we have
no hesitation in striking out in any direction and
in a short time Mt. Mildred (8400 feet) is on
our right.

Great groves of willows and alders cover immense areas
of the canyon’s sides, while we pass a giant
red fir with a diameter of fully six feet.

When about half a mile from Five Lake Creek the largest
portion of the canyon is taken up with irregular masses
of granite over which a glacier, or glaciers, have
moved. The striation and markings are down the
valley, and looking up from below the canyon for a
mile or more it has the appearance of a series of
irregular giant steps, each step gradually sloping
back to the step above. From above the course
of the glacier seems clear. It must have flowed
downwards, polishing and smoothing each step in turn,
then falling over the twenty, thirty or fifty feet
high edge to the next lower level, to ascend the next
slope, reach the next precipice, and so on.

At the point where we strike Five Lake Creek, in a
large expanse of meadow, we pass a camp, where in
the distance we can clearly see three men and a woman.
Deer hunters probably. We give them a cheery Halloo!
and pass on.

Five Lake Creek here makes a sharp bend into the canyon
which is a continuation of the canyon down which we
have been traveling, and enters the Rubicon River
at Hell Hole. We, however, turn up the
Creek to the northeast, here striking the regular Hell
Hole trail built a few years ago by Miss Katherine
Chandler, of Deer Park. Just ahead of us, appearing
through a grove of trees near to where the Five Lakes
are nestling, is a perfectly white cloud, absolutely
startling in the vividness of its contrast to the
deep blue of the sky and the equally deep green of
the firs and pines.

A wilderness of bowlders compels the winding about
of the trail, but we hear and see Five Lake Creek,
roaring and dashing along, for it has a large flow
of water and its course is steep and rocky. We
pass through groups of willows, wild currants and
alders, enter a sparsely wooded meadow and in a few
moments see the first of the Five Lakes. There
is but little difference in their levels, though their
sizes vary considerably. The first one is the
largest. Here is a log cabin and two or three
boats. These are owned by the Deer Park Springs
resort, and are for their fishing and hunting patrons.
They also own a hundred and sixty acres here, which
include the area of the lake. The two first or
lower lakes are the largest and the deepest. It
is their flow which makes Five Lakes Creek. The
three upper lakes are smaller and shallower.
It is said that a divide used to separate the two lower
from the three upper lakes, and the flow from the latter
descended through Bear Creek, past Deer Park, into
the Truckee River and thence into far-away Pyramid
Lake in Nevada.

Page 115

From this point the trail is clear and well defined,
being traveled constantly during the season by guests
of Deer Park Springs. Passing through a fine
nursery of beautiful and exquisite red firs we drop
into the canyon of Bear Creek. To the left are
great andesite crowns on the mountain tops. Here
also are more glacially polished masses and cliffs
of granite, clearly indicating great glacial activity
in the upper part of this canyon. The trail is
ticklish in a few places, with steps up and down which
our horses take gingerly, but nothing which need excite
an extra heart-beat to one used to mountain trails.

In less than half an hour we are at Deer Park Springs,
drinking its pleasant waters, and while we still have
six and a half miles to go to the Tavern it is over
easy and ordinary road, and therefore our pleasant
trip is practically at an end.

* * * *
*

TO ELLIS PEAK

Homewood is the natural starting point for Ellis Peak
(8745 feet) as the trail practically leaves the Lake
high-road at that point, and strikes directly upon
the mountain slope. Hundreds make the trip on
foot and it is by no means an arduous task, but many
prefer to go horse-back or burro-back. In its
upward beginnings the trail follows the course of
an old logging chute for a distance of some two miles,
the lake terminus of which is now buried in a nursery
of white fir and masses of white lilac. There
are a few cedars and pines left untouched by the logger’s
ax, but they are not prime lumber trees, or not one
of them would now be standing.

To the right is Dick Madden Creek, which, like all
the streams on the eastern slopes of the great western
escarpment of Lake Tahoe, comes dashing and roaring
down steep and rocky beds to the Lake.

When at about 7000 feet we find few other than red
firs and mountain pines. Here is a wonderful
nursery of them that have secured a firm hold upon
life. Throughout the whole region the year 1913
seems to have been a most kindly one for the untended,
uncared for baby-trees. There has been comparatively
little snowfall for three successive years, and this
has given the young trees a chance. As soon as
their heads appear above the snow and they are not
battered down by storm they can make their way, but
if the heavy snow falls and remains upon them too
long, they are either smothered, or so broken down,
that life becomes a fearful struggle and scores of
them succumb. Yet in spite of this fact hemlocks
and red firs seem to prefer the north or shady slopes
of the mountains and invariably thrive much better
there than where there is sunnier exposure.

When about three miles up from the Lake we reach a
richly-grassed meadow, about five acres in extent,
confined in a bowl-shaped rim, broken down at the
east side, through which a rivulet, which flows across
the meadow, finds outlet. This is undoubtedly
one of the many mountain lakes of the region, too
shallow and with too sluggish a flow of water into
it to clear itself of the detritus washed down from
the disintegrating slopes above, hence it ultimately
filled up and entered upon a new life as a meadow.

Page 116

On the upper side of the meadow the trail passes through
a glorious grove of hemlocks, the clean and clear
“floor” of which leads one to the observation
that hemlocks generally seem to be hostile to other
and lesser growth coming in to occupy the ground with
them.

Sierran heather of purple color now appears here and
there in patches and we find quantities of it further
along. There are also several peculiar puff-balls,
and close by a remarkable fungus-growth like a cauliflower,
fully a foot in diameter.

Nearing the summit we come to another meadow followed
by another grove, where scarcely any trees but hemlocks
are to be seen. Here also we see great beds of
the California primrose which grows with a straight
upright stem crowned with blood-red or deep scarlet
flowers above a rich duster of leaves. These
flowers generally can be found blooming quite late
in the season, following the snowline as the summer’s
sun makes it climb higher each day. When the winter’s
snows have been extra heavy the plants are covered
and no flowers appear, as the snow melts too late,
but when there is a lesser amount they bloom as freely
as ever, apparently none the worse for their dormant
period.

Over the peak billowy white clouds are tossing, like
giant cradles built of the daintiest and most silvery
cloud-stuff to be found in the heavens for the rocking
of the cloud-babies to sleep.

On a sister peak to Ellis Peak, just to the south,
is to be seen a remarkable and strikingly picturesque
cluster of hemlocks. It is almost circular in
form, with eight trees in the center, and twenty-three
on the outer rim, which is over a hundred feet in
circumference. Seldom does one see so interesting
a group of trees anywhere, even when planted, and
these, of course, are of native growth.

The summit itself is of broken and shattered granite,
which has allowed a scraggly mountain pine to take
root and grow close to the U.S. Geological Survey
monument. A fierce gale was blowing from the
west, and turning toward the tree-clad slopes of the
east, we stood in the wind, with the everlasting blue
above and the glorious and never-failing green beneath.
Unconsciously there sprang to my lips Joaquin Miller’s
lines:

And ever and ever His boundless blue,
And ever and ever His green, green sod,
And ever and ever between the two
Walk the wonderful winds of God.

Braving the wind and looking over the steep precipice
to the west we see, some four hundred or five hundred
feet below us, so that it seems that we might almost
throw a stone into it, a small lake. This is
Bessie Lake, named after Mrs. C.F. Kohl, of Idlewyld.
It discharges its surplus waters into Blackwood Creek,
and has several times been stocked with fish.
In the mid-distance is Loon Lake, which is the head-waters
of the California Ditch, which follows over the Georgetown
Divide, carries water some forty to fifty miles, and
is distributed by its owners, the Reno Water and Electric
Power Co., for mining, irrigation and domestic purposes.

Page 117

East of Loon Lake are Spider and Pleasant Lakes, all
of which we are told are connected with one another
and controlled by the same company. Another lake,
Bixly or Bixby, slightly to the north of Pleasant,
is also connected.

To the east of Pleasant Lake, Buck Island and Rock
Bound Lakes were dazzlingly brilliant in the mid-day
sun.

One has but to look at the map to realize what a comprehensive
survey is possible in every direction from Ellis Peak.
There is no wonder that it is so popular. The
panorama is unobstructed—­the outlook practically
complete and perfect. Though the whole of the
Lake is not revealed, there is sufficient of it to
make a transcendent picture. Every peak to the
north and on the eastern side is in sight, while the
Tallac range, and the near-by mountains make one long
for an aeroplane that he might step from peak to peak
without the effort of journeying by land to their
elevated summits.

On the left side of Tinker’s Knob is a peak,
unmarked on the map, to which the name of Lion Peak
has been given, for the following reason: Some
years ago former Governor Stanford’s nephew,
who has been a visitor for many years at Hopkins’
Spring, was climbing, together with a companion, over
this peak, when they came to a cave. Lighting
a rude torch they thoughtlessly entered it and had
barely got well inside before they saw the two fierce
eyes of a mountain lion glaring at them. Surprised
and startled, they were about to turn and run, when
the astonished animal sprang past them and disappeared
before they recollected they had a gun.

It should not be overlooked that Ellis Peak is the
most eastern mountain of the Sierran divide.
East, its drainage empties into Lake Tahoe and thus
eastward into the Big Basin; west, into the Rubicon,
thence to the American, the Sacramento and finally
out by the Golden Gate to the Pacific.

To the west of the Rubicon Peaks is a chain of lakes
in the valley below known as the Rock Bound Lakes.
There are nine of these in all, though several of
them are practically unknown except to the few guides
and the sheepmen who range over the surrounding mountains.

As far as the eye can see, westward, there are distinct
glacial markings, a wonderful revelation of the widespread
and far-reaching activity of these glaciers borne
on the highest crests of the Sierras. The canyon
in which the Rubicon River flows is definitely outlined,
as is also the deep chasm known as Hell Hole.
Near by is Bear Lake, about the same size and appearance
as Watson Lake, its overflow emptying into the Rubicon.

Close at hand to the north and west are Barker’s
Peak, Barker’s Pass, and Barker’s Creek,
and these decide us to go home by way of Barker’s
Pass instead of the way we came. Accordingly we
drop down, returning a short distance to the south,
over the western slope of Ellis Peak to Ellis Valley.
Both peak and valley receive their name from Jock Ellis,
a Squaw Valley stay-behind, who entered the cattle
and sheep business, and pastured his animals in this
rich and well-watered region.

Page 118

On our way we pass through the most remarkable white
fir nursery we have yet seen. Not far away were
a few hoary monarchs from the still hanging but burst
open cones of which winged seeds were flying before
the breeze. These potential firs were carried
in many cases over a mile before they found lodgement.
It was a beautiful and delightful demonstration of
Nature’s lavish method of preserving this useful
species of tree alive.

Sweeping now to the north and east we make a rapid
descent of some six hundred or seven hundred feet
to Barker’s Pass, the elevation of which is
about 7000 to 7500 feet, the nearby Peak having an
elevation of about 8500 feet. It is a round,
bare mountain, and seems as if it ought to be marked
higher (on the map) than it is.

Rapidly dropping we come to a peculiar mass of stratified
rock, acutely tilted, unlike any found elsewhere in
the region except on Five Lake Creek on the way to
Hell Hole. Just before reaching Blackwood’s
Creek the trail passes through rude piles of breccia
similar to that of the Devil’s Playground near
the Truckee River. It may be perfectly possible
that one of the volcanic flows that covered large
portions of the High Sierras, after the Cretaceous
degradations had taken place, came from a vent, or
volcano, near by, and slowly flowed down Blackwood
Creek, leaving vast masses behind which have rapidly
disintegrated until these are all that remain.

These conjectures occupy our brain until we reach
the Lake again, alongside of which the road soon brings
us back to our starting point, after another most
enjoyable, instructive, healthful and delightful day.

The foregoing are but samples of a hundred similar
trail trips that can be taken from every part of the
Lake, and from all the resorts. Each place has
its chosen trips, and though, of course, there are
many points of similarity, there are enough individualities
to make each trip distinctive.

My friends often ask me what food and drink I take
along on such hiking or riding trips. Generally
the hotel provides a luncheon, but personally, I prefer
a few Grant’s crackers (a thick, hard cracker
full of sweet nutriment, made at Berkeley, Calif.),
a handful of shelled nuts—­walnuts, pecans,
or almonds, a small bottle of Horlick’s Malted
Milk tablets, a few slabs of Ghirardelli’s milk
chocolate, and an apple or an orange. On this
food I can ride or walk days at a time, without
anything else. Grant’s crackers, Horlick’s
Malted Milk tablets, and Ghirardelli’s chocolate
are the best of their kind, and all are nutritious
to the full, as well as delicious to the taste.
For drink I find Horlick’s Malted Milk the most
comforting and invigorating, and it has none of the
after “letting-down” effects that accompany
coffee drinking.

CHAPTER XVI

CAMPING-OUT TRIPS IN THE TAHOE REGION

There are many trips in the Tahoe Region which can
be made, with greater or lesser ease, on foot or horseback,
in one day, so that one can sleep in his hotel each
night. On the other hand there are some highly
desirable trips that can be taken only by camping-out,
and to these I wish to commend those of my readers
of both sexes who are strong enough to care for such
intimate contact with God’s great-out-of-doors.

Page 119

To me one of Life’s greatest delights, appealing
alike to body, mind and soul, is a camping-out trip.
Breathing day and night the pure air of mountain and
forest,—­occasionally swept by breezes from
desert and ocean,—­exercising one’s
body into vigorous healthfulness, sweating in the
sun with life-giving labor,—­even though
it be only tramping or riding up and down trails,—­sauntering
over meadows, rambling and exploring untrailed spaces,
under giant sky-piercing trees; lying down at night
on the restful brown Mother Earth; sleeping peacefully
and dreamlessly through delicious star-and-moon-lit
nights, cooled and refreshed by the night winds, awakening
in the morning full of new life and vigor, to feel
the fresh tang of the air and the cool shock of the
wash (or even plunge) in the snow-or-spring-fed stream;
companioning with birds and bees, chipmunks and squirrels,
grouse and quail, deer and antelope, trees and plants,
shrubs and flowers, lava and granite, lakes and creeks,
rivers and ponds; smelling the sweet fragrance of
the trees, shrubs, plants and vines; bathing in an
atmosphere of calm and quiet that seems almost Divine;
covered with a sky as cloudless and pure blue as the
dome of heaven itself, and which, at night, changes
into a rich blue-black velvet, studded with silvery
emblazonments, that dance and dazzle in the pellucid
air; listening to the varied voices of Nature, each
eager to give tongue to its joy; eating healthful,
simple food with appetite and relish; absorbing the
assurance that Nature means good and nothing but good
to man, thus coming nearer to the heart of God; losing
the fret and worry of money-getting and all other
of Life’s lower ambitions and strivings; feeling
the inflow of strength,—­physical, mental
and spiritual; gaining calmness, serenity, poise and
power;—­is there any wonder that a man so
blessed should speak and write with radiant and exuberant
enthusiasm of that which has been so lavish to him.
This is what camping-out (in part) means to me.

Hence, when I leave home for a mountain trip I always
put into my Indestructo[1] an extra blue flannel
shirt, riding boots and breeches (or a pair of overalls),
a cap, and a bottle of Vaseline. The hunter and
fisherman, of course, will bring his especial equipment,
as, also, will the geologist or botanist.

The first essentials of a successful camping-out trip
are personal. One must have the receptive and
acceptive spirit. No matter what comes it is
for the best; an experience worth having. Nothing
must be complained of. The “grouch”
has no place on a camping-trip, and one who is a “grouch,”
a “sissy,” a “faultfinder,”
a “worrier,” a “quitter,”
or who cannot or will not enter fully into the spirit
of the thing had better stay at home.

[Footnote 1: Indestructo is the name given
to a trunk that has been such a delight to me for
its enduring and useful qualities, that I cannot refrain
from “passing it on.” A poor trunk,
to a constant traveler, is a perpetual nuisance and
worry. My trunks always gave me trouble until
I got an Indestructo. Since then I have
had freedom from all such distress. It is fully
insured for five years.]

Page 120

If experiences are met with that are disagreeable,
meet them as a man should; a woman always does,—­or
always has on trips taken with me. The “self-pitier,”
the “self-indulgent,” the “fearful”
also had better stay at home.

The next essentials are a good guide—­such
as is suggested by the Dedication of this book—­and
good saddle-and-pack-animals, good bedding, good food
and the proper season. Then if the spot you have
chosen contains anything worth while, you cannot fail
to have an enjoyable, interesting, educative, health-giving
and generally profitable time.

In outfitting for such a trip always put into your
pocket (and in the pack a reserve supply) a few Grant’s
crackers, a handful of Horlick’s Malted Milk
tablets, and a cake of Ghirardelli’s chocolate.
With these you are safe for a whole day or two, or
more, if anything should happen to separate you from
your pack animal, or you should desire to ride on
without stopping to prepare a noon, or later, camp
meal.

The Tahoe Region offers scores of just such trips,
where for one or two months each year for a dozen
years a visitor may camp-out in some new region.
For instance, every student of God’s handiwork
should go up to Deer Park, camp-out at Five Lakes,
and study the evidences of lava flows at the head
of Bear Creek. Go to the Lake of the Woods and
spend a week there, tracing the glacial movements that
made Desolation Valley. Take such a trip as I
enjoyed to Hell Hole on the Rubicon, but take more
time for it than I could give; cross the range to the
Yosemite, and thus link the two sublimest parts of
the Sierras in your memory; follow the old trails
that used to echo to the voices of pioneers from Michigan
Bluff, Last Chance, Hayden Hill, etc.; go out
with one of the Forest Rangers and get a glimpse into
his wonderful life of activity, independence and solitude.
Thus you will come in contact with larger conceptions,
fuller ideas, deeper sympathies, higher aspirations
than is possible where you follow the ordinary routine
of the ordinary, mediocre, self-contented man.
Thank God for the spark of discontent, of ambition,
of aspiration, of desire to see beyond, to know more,
to climb higher, to solve the mysteries, to abolish
the unknown.

Then, if you dare the perils and joys of winter, get
Bob Watson, or some other expert on snow-shoes to
go with you over Tahoe’s wild wastes of snow.
Emulate Snow-shoe Thompson, a short sketch of whose
life and adventures will be found in my book, Heroes
of California, and henceforth the days and nights
of spring, summer, fall and winter will never seem
quite the same to you.

Merely as a sample, the balance of this chapter is
devoted to the trip made in the fall of 1913 with
Watson from Tahoe Tavern.

* * * *
*

TO HELLHOLE AND THE RUBICON RIVER

Page 121

I certainly think I can conjecture with accuracy the
way it received its name. The trails in and out
were first made and used by the wild animals—­bear,
deer, antelope, mountain lions, etc., then by
the first Americans—­the Indians, and at
last, by the white man. Undoubtedly the first
whites to come over the trails were miners from the
Georgetown and Placerville districts, lured by the
marvelous discoveries of the Comstock lode in Virginia
City. Then in 1862-3 came the Squaw Valley stampede
and this “strike” being so much nearer
than the Comstock naturally attracted much attention,
especially as the California mines of the Sierra Nevada
were becoming less profitable. One of these old
miners, whose language was more luridly picturesque
than refined, on coming into the region or going out
of it,—­when he struck the rough, rugged,
uncertain, rocky, and exceedingly steep grade, must
have called it a “hell of a hole” to get
into or out of, and in future references the name
stuck until, at last, it was passed down to future
ages on the maps of the U.S. Geological Survey
as the true and correct name.

[Illustration: Angora Lake, near Lake Tahoe,
Calif.]

[Illustration: GLENBROOK ON THE NEVADA SIDE OF
LAKE TAHOE]

[Illustration: THE STEAMER TAHOE, AT THE
WHARF, JUST BEFORE STARTING AROUND THE LAKE]

But if the reader thinks the name in the slightest
degree characteristic of the place itself he never
made a greater blunder. Instead, it is a paradise
of delightful surprises. A large, fairly level
area—­hundreds of acres at least—­through
which runs the clear and pellucid waters of the Rubicon
River on their way to join those of the American,
and dotted all over with giant cedars, pines, firs
and live oaks, with tiny secluded meadows, lush with
richest grasses, it is a place to lure the city-dweller
for a long and profitable vacation. Whether he
hunts, fishes, botanizes, geologizes or merely loafs
and invites his soul, it is equally fascinating, and
he is a wise man who breaks loose from “Society”—­spelled
with either a capital or small letter—­the
bank, the office, the counting-house, the store, the
warehouse, the mill, or the factory, and, with a genial
companion or two, buries himself away from the outer
world in this restful, peaceful, and God-blessed solitude.

When I first saw it I exclaimed: “Hell
Hole? Then give me more of it,” and instead
of hastening on to other places of well-known charm,
I insisted upon one day at least of complete rest to
allow its perfection to “seep in” and
become a part of my intimate inner life of remembrance.

Page 122

It was under Bob Watson’s efficient guidance
I left Tahoe Tavern, for a five day trip. We
took a pack-horse well laden with grub, utensils for
cooking and our sleeping bags. Riding down the
Truckee, up Bear Creek, past Deer Park Springs, I
was struck more forcibly than ever before by the marvelous
glacial phenomena in the amphitheater at the head
of the canyon through a portion of which the trail
passes, and also with the volcanic masses that rest
upon the granite, mainly on the right hand side of
the pass. Its first appearance shows a cap of
from two hundred to three hundred feet in thickness;
later on two other patches of it appear, the upper
one presenting the granite and superposed granite
on the same level, clearly indicating a channel of
early erosion filled up by the later flow of volcanic
matter.

Passing by Five Lakes and down Five Lake Creek to
its junction with the canyon down which we had come
from the Little American Valley, we were soon headed
down the creek for the Rubicon. To the right towered
Mt. Mildred (8400 feet), on the other side of
which is Shank’s Cove. Shank was a sheep-man
who for years ran his sheep here during the summer,
taking them down to the Sacramento Valley in winter.
After passing several grassy meadows, cottonwood groves,
and alder thickets we reached Bear Pen Creek, a rocky,
bone-dry crossing, nine miles from the divide.
To the left, Powder Horn Creek comes in, which heads
on the northwestern slope of the ridge, on which,
on the southern side, Barker Creek has its rise.
It received this peculiar name from the fact that
General Phipps, from whom Phipps Peak is named, was
once chasing a bear, when suddenly the infuriated
animal turned upon him, made a savage strike at him
with his paw and succeeded in knocking the bottom
out of his old-fashioned powder-horn.

Further down we came suddenly upon a hawk who had
just captured a grouse, and taken off his head.
As the bird dropped his prey on our approach we took
it as a gift of the gods, and next morning, with two
or three quail, it made an excellent breakfast for
us.

Nearing the descent into Hell Hole we gained striking
glimpses of a great glacially-formed valley in the
mountains on the farther side, while a ridge to our
left revealed a cap of volcanic rock apparently of
columnar structure and extending from the eastern end
half way the length of the ridge.

Watson assured me that here he has found herds of
sixteen and nineteen deer, on separate occasions.
They seem to follow, in the early spring, the line
of the melting snow. At this time they are tame
and fearless, and will stand and look at you with
surprise and impatience. They seldom run away.
On one occasion he came upon a doe and two fawns not
far from the brink or ridge of Hell Hole. He was
close upon them before he was aware, but stopped suddenly.
The doe saw him, but instead of turning to flee she
stood and impatiently stamped her foot several times.
Then as he seemed to pay no attention and to be harmless,
she and her young began to graze again, and shortly
disappeared.

Page 123

Before long we arrived at what may be called the “jumping-off
place.” In reality it is a steep descent
into the depths of a wide canyon, but earth has so
lodged in the rocky slopes that they are covered with
dense growths of trees and chaparral, so that it is
impossible to see very far ahead. Down, down,
down we went, winding and twisting, curving around
and dodging, but getting deeper with every zig-zag
until almost as suddenly as we began the steep descent
we found ourselves on a fairly level platform.
Hell Hole was reached.

The day spent here was a delightful one. While
Watson fished I wrote, loafed, rambled about, studied
the rock formations, and wished for a week or more
instead of a day.

Next morning we struck into the canyon of the Rubicon
River, for Soda Spring, half a mile away, where salt
and soda exude in such quantities as to whiten the
rocks. Here the deer, bear, grouse, quail, ground-hogs,
and other creatures come for salt. Indeed, this
is a natural “salt lick,” and there are
eight or ten piles of rock, behind which Indian and
white hunters used to watch for the coming of the
game they desired to kill. Twenty years ago one
could get game here practically every day. The
Washoes used to descend the western slope as far as
this; the men for deer, the women for acorns, though
they had to be on the alert as the Sierra Indians
resented their intrusion.

Right and left as we rode on there were great “islands”
of granite, fifty to one hundred feet high, masses
that either had been hurled from the heights above
in some cataclysm, or planed to their present shape
by long-forgotten glaciers. These granite masses
alternate with flower and shrub-bestrewed meadows
that once were glacial lakes. At times we found
ourselves in a dense forest where the trees were ancient
monarchs, whose solitudes had never been disturbed
by stroke of ax, or grate of saw. Clumps of dogwood
and chaparral of a dozen kinds confuse the tyro, and
he loses all sense of direction. Only the instinct
that makes a real mountain and forest guide could enable
one successfully to navigate these overgrown wilds,
for we were now wandering up a region where trails
had been abandoned for years. Here and there,
when we came to the rocky slopes “ducks"[2] in
confusing variety were found but scarce a sign of
a trail, and the “blazes” on the trees
were more confusing than if we had been left to our
own devices.

Yellow jackets’ nests hung from many branches,
and we were now and then pestered by the flying creatures
themselves. Then we had a good laugh. Our
pack-horse, Shoshone, got between two trees. His
head could pass but his pack couldn’t, and there
he stood struggling to pull through. He couldn’t
do it, but stupidly he would not back up. Talk
about horse-sense! A burro would have backed up
in a minute, but most horses would struggle in such
a place until they died.

[Footnote 2: Ducks are small piles of
stone so placed as to denote the course of the trail.]

Page 124

Near here there came into sight a granite ridge between
the Rubicon and Five Lake Creek. This grows higher
until it becomes quite a mountain, between Five Lake
Creek and Barker Creek. On the right McKinstry
Peak (7918 feet) towered up, with its double top, leading
the eye along a ridge of red granite rock to Red Peak.

About three miles up the canyon we found a number
of rocky basins in the course of the Rubicon with
water, eight, ten and more feet deep in them, temptingly
suggesting a plunge. I didn’t need much
tempting, and as quickly as I could disrobe I had
plunged in. What a cold, invigorating shock it
was. There’s nothing like such a plunge
for thoroughly arousing one and sending the blood
quickly coursing through his veins.

Nearby were great beds of brake-ferns, four and five
feet high, groves of immense alders, sugar pines,
some of which were fully eight feet through and the
trunks of which were honeycombed with woodpecker holes.
I saw and heard several woodpeckers at work. They
had red top-knots, and the noise they made echoed
through the woods more as if a sledge hammer had struck
the tree than the bill of a bird. How they climb
up the trunk of the trees, holding on in a mysterious
fashion and moving head up or down, as they desire,
with jerky little pulls, bobbing their heads as if
emphasizing some remarks they were making to themselves.

And what ideal spots for camping-out we passed, shady
trees, nearby meadows, to give abundant feed for the
horses, the pure waters of the Rubicon close by, with
scenery, trees, flowers, animals, birds—­all
the glory of nature—­surrounding one with
objects of delight, interest and study.

One large area was strewn with hundreds of thousands
of the big long cones of the sugar pine. When
one wishes to pack and ship home specimens of these
and other cones, it is well to soak them in water.
They then close up and carry safely, opening up as
before, as they dry out.

Then we passed some giant “wind falls,”
mainly spruces. The roots of these monarchs of
the forest had twined themselves around rocks of every
size and shape, some of them massive bowlders, but
when the storm came, the purchase, or leverage of
the tall trees was so great that these heavy rock-masses
were pulled out of place and lifted up as the trees
crashed over to their fall.

Now we came to a stretch of perfect virgin forest.
No ax, no saw, no log chutes, no wagons, no dragging
of logs, no sign of the hand of man. Nature was
the only woodsman, with her storms and winds, her
snows and rains, to soften the soil and uproot her
growing sons and daughters. There was confusion
in places, even rude chaos, but in and through and
above it all a cleanness, a sweetness, a purity, a
grandeur, harmony, glory, beauty and majesty—­all
of which disappear when destroying man comes upon
the scene.

About five miles up, we left the Rubicon and struck
up toward Barker Creek. Here was another of the
great, tempting granite basins, full of clear cool
water. We also passed patches of belated scarlet
larkspur, shooting stars, and glaring golden-rod.

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Half a mile up we reached Barker Creek, now a bowlder-strewn
arroyo which aroused my covetousness to high degree.
How I would love to build, with my own hands, a cottage,
bungalow or house of some kind with these great bowlders,
of varied sizes and colors, shapes and material.

Just above the junction of Barker Creek and the Rubicon
is “Little Hell Hole,” a camping-place
almost as famous as its larger namesake, and noted
for the fact that half a mile away is a small canyon
full of mineral springs—­sulphur, iron,
soda, magnesia, etc. Naturally it is a “deer-lick,”
which makes it a Mecca during the open season to hunters.
The springs bubble up out of the bed of the stream,
the water of which is stained with the coloring matter.
When the stream runs low so that one can get to the
springs he finds some of them as pleasant to the taste
as those of Rubicon and Glen Alpine.

As we got higher we left the spruces behind, and the
junipers, covered with berries, began to appear.
Then we came to open spaces where the wind began to
sing in the tops of the pines.

About a mile up Barker Creek, Watson showed me the
course of one of his trails back to the Tavern.
It ascends a formidable ridge and leads quickly to
Idlewyld, but we were bound for Rubicon Springs.
The old trail was inaccessible, but Mr. Colwell of
the Springs had lately marked out a new trail, so
we took our chances on finding our way somehow.
Over windfalls, up and down and around rocky promontories,
we came to West Meadow Creek Wash, its rude bowlder-strewn
course striking directly across our path. Here
we struck beds of brakes nestling in the shade of
giant trees. On the left side of the creek where
we were, we ran into dense clumps of wild-cherry which
prevented further progress. Scouting found us
an outlet on the other side of Barker Creek.
The divide on the left towered up with rugged majesty,
reddish in color, and split into gigantic irregular
terraces, the taluses of which were all crowded with
dense chaparral growths.

On this side the slopes were all more open, nothing
but rugged bowlders clinging on the bare surfaces.

How enjoyable was this forcing our way along through
these solitary wilderness places, so that I was really
sorry when we finally dropped over a forested slope
into the Rubicon Springs and McKinney’s Road.
A mile away we found the hotel, with Mr. and Mrs.
Colwell. The buildings are old but all nature
is gloriously grand and beautiful.

Though cordially invited to stay overnight, we pushed
on over the Rubicon River, up the hill on part of
the Georgetown road for a mile and a half,—­from
which we had a fine view of Buck Island Lake,—­struck
the trail for another mile and in the early afternoon
made camp at Rock Bound Lake. Here we rowed and
swam, studied the country from the nearby hills, and
then slept the sleep of the healthfully weary under
the blue vault of heaven.

Though Rubicon Springs was not far away there was
such an air of quietude in this spot that we felt
as if we were in one of Nature’s choicest retreats.

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Returning to Rubicon we followed the road back to
where we had struck it the day before. The old
trail from McKinney’s used to come over the
divide from the east and strike the Rubicon near where
we then stood, pass by the Springs and then follow
the river, but to avoid the steep grades the road
had to be constructed around by Buck Island Lake.

Those who ride into Rubicon Springs from McKinney’s,
just as they make the last descent, have a wonderful
view of Georgetown Mountain before them. Its
sloping side is glacially planed off at a steep angle,
and it reveals the vast extent the great ice field
must have covered in the days of glacial activity.
Many bowlders near the Springs are very strongly marked
by glacial action.

About a mile from the Springs we came to a tree on
which a “cut-off” sign was placed.
When the road was being constructed the builders started
a new grade at this point and after going for a mile
or so found it was so steep that it had to be abandoned
and a lesser grade found by going around.

From the summit we could clearly follow the course
of the Little Rubicon, and also secured an excellent
view of the sharp point of Rubicon Peak (9193 feet).

A stiff and cool breeze was blowing from the west
so we were not sorry to find shelter from the wind
as we entered a wooded park, where the song of the
pines cheered us on our way. Soon we struck the
road and followed it until we came to the headwaters
of Miller’s Creek on the right. Miller
used to run sheep up in the meadows, which afford a
smooth grade for the road for some distance. There
are many alders here, which bear mute though powerful
testimony, in the shape of their gnarled and bent
over ground-groveling trunks, of the heavy winters’
snows.

These meadows clearly were once glacial lakes, now
filled up, and Miller’s Creek was the instrument
of their destruction. Crossing the last of the
meadows we came to Burton’s Pass, so called from
H.D. Burton, another Placerville pioneer who
used to cut hay here, pack it on mules to McKinney’s,
and then ship it across to Lakeside, where he sold
it for $80 to $100 a ton. We then passed McKinney’s
old cabin, the place he built and occupied in 1863,
before he went to live at the Lake. Only a few
fragments now remain, time and storms having nearly
completed the work of destruction.

Nearby was a beautiful lily pond, soon to be a meadow,
and just beyond this we stood on the actual divide
between the Great Basin and the Pacific. We were
at the head of Phipps Creek, named on the map General
Creek, from General Phipps. At the mouth of the
creek this pioneer located on 160 acres, which, when
he died about 1883, was sold to M.H. de Young, of
the San Francisco Chronicle. After holding
it for many years he sold it in turn to I. Hellman,
the banker, who now uses it as his summer estate,
having built a fine residence upon it.

Near here we lunched at a sheep-herder’s camp
and heard an interesting story of the relocation of
an old mine that had helped create the Squaw Valley
excitement forty years before. Owing to new and
improved methods of extracting the precious metal
it is now deemed that this may soon develop into a
paying property.

Page 127

Returning to the road we passed Jock Ellis’s
cabin, in a similar state of ruin to that of McKinney.
Ellis Peak (8945 feet) is named after him. He
was a Squaw Valley stampeder. Nearby we saw the
largest tamarack I have yet found in the Sierras.
It was fully five feet through and fluted in an interesting
and peculiar fashion.

From here we made a mile detour to visit Hank Richards
Lake, a beautiful crystal jewel in an incomparable
wooded setting. Then back to Phipps Creek, over
a perfect jumble of granite bowlders and tree-clad
slopes until we finally struck the trail and followed
it to the Lake, and thence home to the Tavern.

The reader should observe that in this, as in the
chapter on “Trail Trips,” only a sample
is given of a score or more of similar trips.
His host at any of the hotels can suggest others equally
interesting.

CHAPTER XVII

HISTORIC TAHOE TOWNS

There have been only three towns on the immediate
banks of Lake Tahoe, viz., Tahoe City, Glenbrook
and Incline, though Knoxville was located on the Truckee
River only six miles away.

Tahoe City. Tahoe City was founded in
1864 at the collapse of the Squaw Valley mining excitement,
the story of which is fully related in another chapter.
Practically all its first inhabitants were from the
deserted town of Knoxville. They saw that the
lumbering industry was active and its permanence fully
assured so long as Virginia City, Gold Hill and other
Nevada mining-camps remained profitable. The
forests around the Lake seemed inexhaustible, and
there was no need for them to go back to an uncertainty
in the placer mines of El Dorado County, when they
were pretty sure to be able to make a good living
here. They, also, probably exercised a little
imagination and saw the possibilities of Lake Tahoe
as a health and pleasure resort. Its great beauty
must have impressed them somewhat, and the exploitation
of these features may have occurred to them.

Anyhow, in 1864, the Bailey Hotel was erected, and,
later, a man named Hill erected the Grand Central.
The Squaw Valley excitement had attracted a number
from the Nevada camps, and when these men returned
they took with them glowing accounts of the beauty
of Lake Tahoe, and of the fishing and hunting to be
enjoyed there. Thus the Lake received some of
its earliest resort patronage. During lumbering
days it was an active, bustling place, being the nearest
town to which the loggers, drivers, tree-fellers,
millmen and others could flee for their weekly recreation
and periodic carouses. Yet it must not be thought
that the town was wholly given over to roughness.
Helen Hunt Jackson, a widely traveled and observant
woman of finest susceptibilities, says of the Lake
Tahoe House, which she visited in stage-coach days,
that it was “one of the very best in all California.”
It was the stopping-place of the elite who
came to see and enjoy Tahoe, and until later and more
fashionable hotels were built around the Lake enjoyed
great popularity.

Page 128

As soon as the logging industry declined Tahoe City
began to go down, and only the fishing and tourist
interests kept it alive.

When the railway was moved over from Glenbrook and
the shops and yard of the Transportation Company were
established here it regained some of its former activity
and life, and is now the chief business center on
the Lake. It is the headquarters of the campers
who come for pleasure each year, and its store does
a very large and thriving business. New cottages
are being erected and it is destined ere long to be
a stirring pleasure resort town, for, as the delights
of Tahoe become more widely known, every available
piece of land will increase in value and where there
is now one summer home there will be a hundred.

Glenbrook. On the Nevada side of the Lake,
Glenbrook used to be one of the most active, busy,
bustling towns in the west. It scarcely seems
credible to one who visits the quiet, placid resort
of to-day that when I first saw it, some thirty years
ago, it had three or four large sawmills in constant
operation, day and night. It was then regarded,
and so designated in the History of Nevada,
published in 1881, as “the great lumber manufacturing
town of the state.”

The town was begun in 1860, the land being squatted
upon by G.W. Warren, N.E. Murdock, and R.
Walton. In 1861 Captain A.W. Pray erected
a saw-mill, run by water-power, but as water sometimes
failed, when the demand for lumber increased, he changed
to steam-power. He also secured a thousand acres,
much of it the finest timber land, from the government,
using in its purchase Sioux Scrip.

Up to 1862 the only way to travel from California
to Carson and Virginia City, south of Lake Tahoe,
was by the Placerville road which came by Bijou and
Lakeside and then over the Kingsbury Grade, via Friday’s
Station, afterward called Small’s, by which latter
name it is still known on the maps of the U.S.
Geological Survey. In 1862, however, a new road
was projected, branching off to the northwest (the
left) from Small’s, and following the eastern
shore of the Lake, passed Zephyr Cove and Cave Rock
to Glenbrook, thence by Spooner’s and down King’s
Canyon to Carson. This was called the Lake Bigler
Toll Road (notice the fact that “Tahoe”
was then officially designated in Nevada as “Bigler"),
and was completed in 1863.

This demanded the opening of a better class of hotel
for travelers and others in Glenbrook, and in the
same year the road was finished Messrs. Winters and
Colbath erected the “Glenbrook Hotel,”
which finally came into the hands of Messrs. Yerington
and Bliss, who, later, were the builders of the railway,
the owners of most of the surrounding timberlands,
and who had practical control of the major portion
of the lumber interests. But prior to this a lumber-mill
was built by J.H.F. Goff and George Morrill in
the northern part of the town. This did a good
business, for even in those early days common lumber

Page 129

was worth $25.00 per thousand feet, and clear lumber,
$45.00. The mill was soon destroyed by fire,
but the site was bought by A.H. Davis and Son,
who erected a new mill, which they operated for a
while and then sold to Wells, Fargo & Co. It was
not until 1873 that Yerington & Bliss came to Glenbrook.
They revolutionized the lumber industry. While
Captain Pray had long used a steam tug to raft logs
across Lake Tahoe, the lumber itself was hauled down
to Carson and Virginia City. Now, owning large
areas of timberland, operating two and then three
saw-mills in Glenbrook, and several others in the
nearby mountains, Messrs. Yerington & Bliss sought
easier means of transportation for their merchandisable
product. They constructed dams and reservoirs,
with V flumes in a number of places, making them converge
as near as possible at the Summit, some six miles from
Glenbrook. To this point they built a narrow gauge
railway for the purpose of transporting the millions
of feet of lumber sawn at their mills.

From Summit a large V flume was constructed down Clear
Creek Canyon into Carson City, and into this flume
a constant stream of water was poured from the reservoirs
which carried upon its bosom another stream of boards,
timber, studding, joists and sheathing, the two streams
emptying simultaneously just outside of Carson City
at a point on the Virginia & Truckee railway, where
the lumber was loaded and thence shipped to its place
of consumption.

That tremendous amounts of lumber were being manufactured
is shown by the fact that the official records of
Douglas County, Nevada, for 1875, give 21,700,000
feet as the product for that year.

One department of the lumber business should not be
overlooked in this connection. As the timber
disappeared from the mountain slopes nearest Glenbrook,
the operators were compelled to go further afield for
their logs. These were cut on the mountain slopes
north, south, east and west, and sent down the “chutes”
into the Lake. Where the ground was level great
wagons, drawn by ten, sixteen, twenty oxen, hauled
the logs to the shore, where they were dumped into
the water. Here they were confined in “booms,”
consisting of a number of long, thin poles fastened
together at the ends with chains, which completely
encircled a “raft” of logs arranged in
the form of a V. The raft was then attached, by strong
cables, to a steamer and towed to Glenbrook, where
the mills were so located that the logs were drawn
up from the Lake directly upon the saw-carriages.
The size of some of the rafts may be imagined when
it is known that they yielded from 250,000 to 300,000
feet of lumber.

The principal vessel for this purpose at the time
I first visited Lake Tahoe in 1881 was an iron tug,
called the Meteor. It was built in 1876
at Wilmington, Delaware, by Harlan, Hollingsworth &
Co., then taken apart, shipped by rail to Carson City
and hauled by teams to Lake Tahoe. It was a propeller,
eighty feet long and ten feet beam, and cost $18,000.

Page 130

The first store erected in Glenbrook was placed on
piles over the water. This was built in 1874,
by J.A. Rigby and A. Childers. One morning
the latter partner disappeared, and it was surmised
that he had fallen into the water and was drowned.
New partners were taken into the firm, but in January,
1877, the store was burned, and it was not re-erected
on its original site.

When the lumber interests and the railway were removed
Glenbrook declined, until it was the most deserted
looking place possible. Then the sons of Mr.
Bliss, one of whom was born there, cleared away all
the evidences of its former lumbering activities, built
a handsome and commodious modern hotel on the most
scenic point, and re-established the place as a choice
resort on the Nevada shore, as described elsewhere.

Incline. It will be a source of interest,
even to many who know Lake Tahoe well, that there
used to be a town named Incline on its shores.
In the curve of Crystal Bay, a few miles from where
the scars show where the water escaped from Marlette
Lake flume, this town was located in 1882. It
was the source of supplies for the lumbering interests
of the Sierra Nevada Wood and Lumber Company, and received
its name from a sixteen-hundred feet incline up which
lumber was hauled. The incline was operated by
an endless cable, somewhat after the style of Mount
Lowe, in Southern California, the car on one side
going up, and on the other coming down one trip, and
vice versa the next. The lumber thus raised
was thrown into the flume, carried therein around
to Lake View, on the line of the Virginia and Truckee
railway, there loaded on cars and shipped to Carson
and Virginia, largely for use in the mines.

When the logging interests were active the place had
quite a population, had its own post-office and was
an election precinct. When the logging interests
waned the town declined, and in 1898 the post office
was discontinued. Now nothing remains but the
old incline, grown up with weeds and chaparral.
New towns are springing up at Al Tahoe, Lakeside and
Carnelian Bay which will soon demand a revision of
this chapter.

[Illustration: Lake Tahoe from Tahoe Tavern]

[Illustration: Steamer Tahoe Rounding Rubicon
Point, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: McKinney’s and Moana Villa,
With Rubicon Peaks in the Distance, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Steamer Landing, McKinney’s,
Lake Tahoe]

CHAPTER XVIII

BY STEAMER AROUND LAKE TAHOE

The ride around Lake Tahoe is one of varied delights,
as the visitor sees not only the Lake itself from
every possible angle, but gains an ever shifting panorama
of country, and, more remarkable than all, he rides
directly over that wonderful kaleidoscope of changing
color that is a never-ceasing surprise and enchantment.

Tahoe Tavern is the starting point of the ride, the
train conveying the passenger directly to the wharf
from which he takes the steamer. Capt. Pomin
is in control.

Page 131

Not far from where this, the most beautiful and charming
hotel of the Lake is erected, there used to be a logging
camp, noted as the place from which the first ties
were cut for that portion of the Central Pacific Railroad
lying east of the summit of the Sierras. A number
of beautiful private residences line the Lake for
some distance, the area having been portioned out
in acre and half-acre lots. Chief of these are
the summer home of Professor W.T. Reid, for a
time President of the State University of California,
and Idlewyld, the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Frederick
Kohl, of San Francisco.

One of the oldest villas of this portion of the Lake
used to be owned by Thomas McConnell, of Galt, and
it was his daughter, Mary, who first made the ascent
of one of the peaks now known as Maggie’s Peaks,
as a marble tablet placed there testifies.

In the mountains beyond are Ward’s Peak (8665
feet) to the right, and Twin Peak (8924) to the left,
from the first of which heads Ward’s Creek,
and the second Blackwood Creek, both entering the Lake
two miles or so apart. Just beyond Twin Peak
are Barker’s Peak (8000 feet), and nearer to
the Lake, Ellis Peak (8745 feet), the waters from
the former making the South Fork of Blackwood Creek.
Ellis Peak, being easily reached by a good trail,
is the common point of ascent from Homewood, McKinney’s,
Tahoe Tavern and other resorts.

Six miles out from the Tavern, the first stop is made
at Homewood, one of the newer resorts.

Three and one-half to four miles further along is
McKinney’s, one of the oldest, best known and
well established resorts on Lake Tahoe. It was
founded by J.W. McKinney, who was first attracted
to this region by the Squaw Valley excitement. (See
special chapter.) For a time in 1862-3 he sold lots
on the townsite of Knoxville, then when the bottom
dropped out of the “boom” he returned to
Georgetown, engaged in mining, but returned to Tahoe
in or about 1867, located on 160 acres on the present
site and in 1891-2, after having erected two or three
cottages, embarked fairly and fully in the resort business.
For several years his chief patronage came from the
mining-camps, etc., of Nevada, Gold Hill, Virginia
City, Dayton, Carson City, Genoa, etc. They
came by stage to Glenbrook and thence across the Lake,
on the small steamer that already was doing tourist
business in summer and hauling logs to the lumber
mills in winter and spring. Thus this resort
gained its early renown.

The bottom of the Lake may be seen at a considerable
depth near McKinney’s, and looks like a piece
of mosaic work. The low conical peak, back of
McKinney’s is about 1400 feet above the Lake
and used to be called by McKinney, Napoleon’s
Hat.

Page 132

The next stop of the steamer is quite close to McKinney’s,
viz., Moana Villa, and a mile or so further on
at Pomin’s, the former an old established resort,
and the latter an entirely new one. After passing
Sugar Pine Point, Meek’s Bay and Grecian Bay
are entered. These two shallow indentations along
the shore line are places where the color effects
are more beautiful than anywhere else in the Lake,
and vie with the attractions of the shore in arresting
the keen attention of the traveler. Meek’s
Bay is three miles long, and, immediately ahead, tower
the five peaks of the Rubicon Range, some 3000 feet
above the Lake. Beyond, a thousand feet higher,
is snow-crowned Tallac,—­the mountain—­as
the Washoe Indians called it, the dominating peak
of the southwest end of the Lake.

Rubicon Point is the extension of the Rubicon Range
and it falls off abruptly into the deepest portion
of the Lake. The result is a marvelous shading
off of the water from a rich sapphire to a deep purple,
while the shore on either side varies from a bright
sparkling blue to a blue so deep and rich as almost
to be sombre. Well, indeed, might Lake Tahoe
be named “the Lake of ineffable blue.”
Here are shades and gradations that to reproduce in
textile fabrics would have pricked a king’s
ambition, and made the dyers of the Tyrian purple of
old turn green with envy. Solomon in his wonderful
temple never saw such blue as God here has spread
out as His free gift to all the eyes, past, present
and to come, and he who has not yet seen Tahoe has
yet much to learn of color glories, mysteries, melodies,
symphonies and harmonies.

Soon, Emerald Bay is entered. This is regarded
by many as the rich jewel of Lake Tahoe. The
main body of the Bay is of the deep blue our eyes
have already become accustomed to, but the shore-line
is a wonderful combination of jade and emerald, that
dances and scintillates as the breeze plays with the
surface of the waters. A landing is made at Emerald
Bay Camp, one of the most popular resorts of the Lake,
and while at the landing the curious traveler should
take a good look at the steep bank of the opposite
shore. This is a lateral moraine of two glaciers,
one of which formed Emerald Bay, as is explained in
Chapter VIII, and the other formed Cascade Lake, which
nestles on the other side of the ridge.

At the head of Emerald Bay, also, is Eagle Falls,
caused by the outflow of water from Eagle Lake, which
is snugly ensconced at the base of the rugged granite
cliffs some three miles inland.

Four miles beyond Emerald Bay is Tallac, one of the
historic resorts on the Lake.

Tallac was originally Yanks. Yank was really
Ephraim Clement, originally a Yankee from Maine, a
stout, hearty, bluff man, who homesteaded his land,
added to it until he owned about a thousand acres,
and finally sold out to E.J. (Lucky) Baldwin.
Baldwin had come over from Virginia City and seeing
the great havoc made in the fine timber, of which
he was very fond, exclaimed with an oath: “Someone
will be cutting this (the timber of Yanks) next,”
and then and there he began to bargain for the place.
In 1878 he bought, changed the name, and thenceforward
Tallac became known. Little by little, as Yank
had done, so Baldwin bought from sheep-men, squatters,
and others until he had quite a holding.

Page 133

The hotel was built and in 1879 Sharp Brothers ran
it. In 1880 Capt. Gordon was manager for
a year, and in 1881 Baldwin gave a lease to Messrs.
Lawrence & Comstock who held it until 1914.

Baldwin was a great lover of trees, and when the present
hotel and cottages were built, not a single tree was
cut without his express permission. Yet he had
no foolish sentiment about the matter as is proven
by the fact that all the buildings were constructed
from local lumber produced in his own sawmill, except
the redwood used for finishing. The hotel as
it now stands was completed in 1900.

Gulls, pelicans and mud-hens can generally be seen
in large numbers around the piers at Tallac, and the
fleet of fishing boats, each with its one or more
eager anglers, is one of the sights.

The steamer stops here long enough to allow a few
minutes ashore, and the visitors ramble over to the
hotel, chat or chatter with the Washoe Indian squaws
who have their baskets for sale, or enjoy the grassy
and shaded grounds.

From the wharf at Tallac visitors for Glen Alpine,
Fallen Leaf Lodge, and Cathedral Park take their respective
stages. These three resorts are within a few
miles and afford additional opportunities for lovers
of the region to add to their knowledge of its scenic,
botanic, arboreal and geologic features. Indeed
such glacial experts as Joseph LeConte, John Muir,
and David Starr Jordan have united in declaring that
the region around Glen Alpine gives a better opportunity
for the study of comparatively recent glacial phenomena
than any other known area.

Adjoining Tallac on the east is the private residence
of W.S. Tevis, of San Francisco. His beautiful
yacht, the Consuelo, may generally be seen
anchored here, when not in actual service.

Half a mile from Tallac is The Grove, close to the
Upper Truckee River, the main feeder of Lake Tahoe,
and four miles further is Al-Tahoe, a new and well-equipped
hotel, standing on a bluff commanding an expansive
view of the Lake. It practically occupies the
site of an old resort well-known as “Rowland’s.”
It is near to Freel’s Peak (10,900 feet), which
in olden days was known as Sand Mountain, on account
of its summit being composed of sand.

A mile and a half further along is Bijou, a pleasant
and comfortable stopping place, while three miles
further a picturesque rustic pavilion on the end of
the pier denotes Lakeside Park, a well-known and long-famous
resort. Forty-five years ago, or more, Capt.
W.W. Latham built the famous State Line House
at this point, and twenty years ago it came into the
hands of its present owners.

This is the most easterly of all the resorts and settlements
at the south end of Lake Tahoe. It is in California,
in El Dorado County, though its post-office is Stateline,
the dividing line between California and Nevada.
The Park is over 2000 acres in extent and has already
become the nucleus for a choice summer residence section.

Page 134

Leaving Lakeside Park the steamer now turns northward
and follows the eastern or Nevada shore, until Cave
Rock is passed and Glenbrook is reached. This
is the only resort on that side of Lake Tahoe.
Once the scene of an active, busy, lumber town, where
great mills daily turned out hundreds of thousands
of feet of timber for the mines of Virginia City and
the building up of the great historic mining-camps
of Nevada, the magic of change and of modern improvements
has swept away every sign of these earlier activities
and left Glenbrook a quiet, delightful, restful resort,
nestling in its own wide and expansive meadows at
the foot of towering mountains that give a rich and
contrasting background for the perennial beauty of
the Lake. Practically all that remains to remind
one of the old days are the remnants of the logging
piers and cribs, the school-house, the quiet “City
of Those who are Gone,” and further up the hills,
the old railroad grade on which the logs were carried
to the mill and the lumber taken through the tunnel,
which still remains, to the flume by which it was
further conveyed to the railroad at Carson City.

Immediately to the right of Glenbrook, as the steamer
heads for the wharf, can be seen the celebrated Shakspeare
Rock. John Vance Cheney, the poet, thus describes
it:

No sooner had the steamer been made
fast than a ledge of rocks was pointed out to
us, rising precipitously some distance from the
pier. “Can’t you see it?” again
and again asked our guide, renewing his endeavor
to dispel our distressing stupidity. At length
“it” appeared to us, and we stood mute
with astonishment. There, on the front of
a bold cliff, graven with all the care of the
best copies with which we are familiar, looked
down upon us the face of Shakspeare! As if in
remembrance of her favorite son, here in this far
wild region, nature had caused his features, cut
in everlasting rock, to be hung on high, a fitting
symbol of his intellectual sovereignty over the
world. The likeness needs no aid from the imagination:
it is life-like, recognized instantly by the most
careless observer, and, let it be added, never
forgotten. The beard is a trifle longer than
we are accustomed to see it, but this deviation
does not detract from the majesty of expression becoming
the illustrious original. The spacious forehead,
the nose, even the eyes, all are admirably represented.
A more astounding surprise it has not been the
writer’s fortune to experience. The
portrait looks as if it were made by moss growing
upon the smooth flat surface of a huge rock; but we
were informed that the face is all of stone, and
has undergone no perceptible change since its
discovery about five years since. [This was written
in 1882.] A lady tourist from Massachusetts has,
it is believed, the honor of first pointing it
out. Nature cannot forget her Shakspeare.
So we all mused, and, musing, would have forgotten
our dinners, had we not been summoned inside the

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hotel. The repast was not peculiarly relishable;
consequently, we had all the more opportunity to
feed spiritually upon the masterpiece on the cliff,—­the
rock-portrait of Avon’s, of England’s,
of the World’s immortal bard.

As the steamer leaves Glenbrook one may gain clear
and distinct views of the four prominent peaks of
the Nevada side. Above Lakeside, at the southeast
end, is Monument Peak, then, about midway between Lakeside
and Glenbrook is a sharp-pointed bare mass of rock
known as Genoa Peak. Immediately behind Glenbrook
is Dubliss Mountain (8729 feet), so named after Duane
Bliss, father and son, both of whom have done so much
to make Tahoe known to the world. Marlette Peak
is to the northeast, 8864 feet, with Snow Valley Peak,
9214 feet, a little to the South. These both
overshadow Marlette Lake, a full description of which
is given elsewhere. All these peaks afford excellent
views of Lake Tahoe on the one side and of the valleys
and mountains of western Nevada on the other.

The steamer now continues along the Nevada shore,
past the scars caused by the breaking of the Marlette
Lake flume, by Crystal Bay and the site of the old
town of Incline, around State Line Point to Brockway.

This resort has been long and favorably known for
its famous hot mineral springs. The hot water
is piped to all rooms and private baths of the hotels
and cottages, and is a great source of pleasure as
well as health-giving comfort to the guests.

We are now on the home-stretch, and soon after leaving
Brockway (1-1/2 miles away) and forty-five minutes
(eight miles) from Tahoe Tavern, we reach Tahoe Vista.
Here one is afforded a perfect view of the Lake and
its snowcapped ranges east and south.

Crossing Agate and Carnelian Bays the steamer’s
last stop is at Carnelian Bay. Here there is
great building activity going on and many neat and
commodious cottages and bungalows are being erected.

[Illustration: Snowballing in June, July and
August, near the Summit of “The Crags,”
Deer Park Springs, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Fishing in Grass Lake, Near Glen
Alpine Springs]

[Illustration: Rubicon Point, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Brockway’s Hot Springs Hotel,
Lake Tahoe]

Observatory Point is the last object passed before
the Tavern is again reached. This name was given
because of the fact that it was once the chosen site,
by James Lick, for the observatory he contemplated
building. This plan, however, was never carried
out, as it was shown to the philanthropist that the
cold weather of winter would work exceeding hardship
upon the astronomers without any compensating advantages.
The result was the Observatory was finally established
on Mt. Hamilton, and it is now a part of the
great California University system.

Thus the complete circuit of Lake Tahoe is made daily
in summer by the steamer, and no matter how often
the trip is taken it never palls upon the intelligent
and careful observer. New glories and wonders
are constantly springing forth as pleasant surprises
and one soon learns to realize that here Nature indeed
has been most prodigal in her scenic gifts to mankind.

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CHAPTER XIX

DEER PARK SPRINGS

While in one sense all the resorts of the Tahoe
region are mountain resorts, a difference should
be noted between those that are located directly on
the shores of Lake Tahoe, or some lesser lake, and
those that are away from immediate proximity to a lake.
The latter type is more correctly designated mountain
resorts, and of these are three in the Tahoe region,
viz., Deer Park Springs, Rubicon Springs and
Glen Alpine. All these resorts were discovered
by following the trails of animals which were visiting
them for “salt licks” that existed in
connection with their mineral waters as related in
the chapter on Glen Alpine.

Deer Park is a private estate of approximately 469
acres, in two sections, one the Mineral Springs Section,
consisting of nearly 309 acres, and on which the celebrated
springs—­two of soda, one of sulphur, and
one of iron—­are located, and the other,
the Five Lakes Section, of 160 acres. The former
begins a mile from the Truckee River, up Bear Creek
Canyon. This was originally taken up from the
Government as timber claims, but the timber has never
been cut, and the great pines, firs and junipers remain
as the original settlers found them. The Five
Lakes section is a fascinating and attractive location
two miles away, over the first divide of the mountains,
and therefore 1000 feet higher than the Inn, where
five glacial lakes nestle in their granite basin.
Four of these, and a large part of the fifth, are
included in the estate, while all surrounding is government
land of the Tahoe National Forest. If a dam were
built to restrain the flow of water into Five Lake
Creek, it would need only to be ten feet high to convert
the five lakes into one, so near are they to the same
level.

As it is the flow from these lakes forms Five Lakes
Creek, which empties into the Rubicon and thence into
the South Fork of the American.

Five Lakes afford excellent fishing and a log-cabin,
three boats and fishing tackle are kept here throughout
the season for the pleasure of guests. Those
who disdain the ordinary accommodations of a hotel
can here camp out, rough it, and make it their headquarters
while climbing the adjoining peaks or exploring the
ravines and canyons at the head of the American River.

In 1914 a student from Stanford University was host
at the Five Lakes log-cabin. He cooked for those
who desired it, helped gather fir boughs for camp
beds, prepared fishing-tackle for women anglers, rowed
them to and fro over the lakes, and accompanied parties
to the nearby summits. There are full accommodations
at the cabin for seven persons, and the rule of the
camp is that guests stay only one night, moving on
to make room for the next comer, unless arrangements
for a longer stay are made beforehand. Thus all
the guests at Deer Park Inn may enjoy this novel experience
if they so desire.

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In the region of Five Lakes, Basque and other foreign
shepherds may be found tending their flocks, and prospectors,
with queer little pack-burros, who climb the mountains
seeking the elusive gold, as they did in the days
of ’49.

It was from Deer Park that the trail into the famous
Hell Hole was recut by Miss Katherine Chandler, owner
of the Inn and estate, in 1908, after having been
lost for many years. Arrangements for this trip,
and other famous hunting and fishing trips may be made
at the Inn and many people who have gone over the
mountains to the Yosemite have outfitted and secured
their guide here.

One of the finest trail trips of the Tahoe region
is that afforded over the trail, back of Deer Park
Inn, to the rugged pile known as The Crags, over Inspirational
Ridge to Ward’s Peak. In the early part
of the season great snow banks are encountered, and
when the flowers begin to bloom there are great fields
covered with Sierran primroses, with many patches
of white heather and beautiful cyclamens. This
is but one of many fine trail trips that may be made.

Deer Park Inn is one of the oldest and best
established resorts of the Tahoe region. The
house that I occupied on my short visit was a solid
log cabin, full of romantic interest, for it was quaint,
old-fashioned and appropriate to the surroundings.
The key-note of the place is comfort. Under its
present management a large number of wild New England
flowers have been planted to add their beauty to that
of the native California flower, and each year, about
the third week in July, the guests wander over the
sun-kissed slopes, climb the snowy heights and ramble
through the shady woods gathering Sierran flowers
of every hue, form and variety for an annual flower
show. This is one of the distinctive features
of the life at Deer Park Inn.

It is an interesting fact here to notice that, when
Miss Parsons, chief author of Flowers of California,
was preparing that volume, she found such a wealth
of mountain flora in the Deer Park region that she
spent about as many weeks as she had planned for days.
Other botanists have found it equally productive.

To those who come early in the season tobogganing
and snow shoeing are not unusual experiences.
The shady sides of the mountains offer these winter
sports as late as June and early July, and many Californians
who have never enjoyed the frolic of snow-balling come
here to gain their first experience in this common
eastern enjoyment.

Elsewhere I have referred to the many evidences of
glacial action found about a mile above Deer Park
Inn. Still further up the canyon, on the trail
going to Five Lakes, are interesting deposits of volcanic
rock—­andeside—­so that these two
geological phenomena may be studied close at hand.

Having its own rich meadows on Bear Creek, the Deer
Park Spring tables are always supplied with good milk
and cream from its own dairies, while fresh fruit
and vegetables are supplied daily. Fish and game
in season are frequent, and the table being under
the direct and personal supervision of the management
has gained an enviable reputation.

Page 138

Living water flows in marvelous abundance through
Deer Park all throughout the year. Springs and
melting snow send four different streams, tributary
to Bear Creek, coursing across the property.
The domestic water supply of the Inn is gained from
springs on the mountain side, 800 feet above the Inn,
and it is piped all over the place and to every cottage.

There has been some talk, recently, of converting
Deer Park into a private park. There is no better
location for such a purpose in the whole Tahoe region.
Situated as it is in the heart of a canyon it is readily
isolated and thus kept entirely secluded and free from
intrusion. While such a procedure would be a great
advantage to any individual or club who might purchase
the estate, it would be a decided loss to the general
public who for so many years have enjoyed the charms
and delights of this earliest of Sierran mountain resorts.

CHAPTER XX

RUBICON SPRINGS

One of the oldest and most famous resorts of the High
Sierras is Rubicon Springs. It is nine miles
from Lake Tahoe, at McKinney’s, over a mountain
road built many years ago, engineered so as to afford
marvelously entrancing glimpses of the Lake and of
the mountain scenery on either hand. Here are
primeval forest, flower-strewn meadows of emerald,
crystal streams and placid-faced glacial lakes in
which snow-clad mountain summits are mirrored in quiet
glory. The Rubicon River is one of the feeders
of the American River, and the springs are located
not far from its head waters.

The Rubicon Springs were originally discovered and
located upon by the Hunsaker brothers, two genuine
explorers and adventurers whose names deserve to be
preserved in connection with the Tahoe region.
They were originally from the Hoosier state, coming
to California in 1849, across the plains, by Fort
Hall, the sink of the Humboldt, Ragtown, and by Carson
Canyon to old Hangtown (now Placerville). They
mined for several years. Then came the Comstock
excitement. They joined the exodus of miners
for the Nevada mountains and were among the earliest
to help to construct the Georgetown trail. Thus
it was they discovered Rubicon. In 1869 they
located upon 160 acres, built a log-house and established
a stopping station which they called Hunsaker Springs.
In the winter they rested or returned to Georgetown,
making occasional trapping trips, hunting bear and
deer, and the meat of which they sold. In those
days deer used to winter in large numbers almost as
far down as Georgetown (some fifteen miles or so),
so that hunting them for market was a profitable undertaking
in the hands of experts.

They and John McKinney, the founder of McKinney’s,
were great friends, having worked together in the
Georgetown mines. They soon made their places
famous. Their mining friends came over from Virginia
City, Gold Hill, Carson, etc., by way of Glenbrook,
where they were ferried across Lake Tahoe by the old
side-wheel steamer, Governor Stanford, to McKinney’s.
Then by pack trail over to Hunsakers.

Page 139

For many years they used to cut a great deal of hay
from the nearby meadows. A natural timothy grows,
sometimes fully four feet high. A year’s
yield would often total fully thirty tons, for which
the highest price was paid at the mines.

There was another spring, beside Hunsakers’,
about a mile higher up, owned by a friend of the Hunsakers,
named Potter. In time he sold this spring to
a Mrs. Clark, who finally sold it back to him, when
it was bought by Mr. R. Colwell, of Moana Villa.
When the Hunsakers grew too old to run their place
they sold it to a man named Abbott, who, in due time
wished to sell out. But, in the meantime the railroad
had surveyed their land, granted by Congress, and
found that the springs and part of the hotel building
were on their land, so that while Abbott sold all
his holdings to Mr. Colwell, he could not sell the
main objects of the purchaser’s desire.
An amicable arrangement, however, was made between
all the parties at interest.

Mr. Colwell is now the owner of all the property.

For countless centuries the Indians of both west and
east of Tahoe were used to congregate in the Rubicon
country. They came to drink the medicinal waters,
fish, catch deer and game birds, and also gather acorns
and pine nuts. How well I remember my own visit
to the Springs in the fall of 1913. Watson and
I had had three delightful days on the trail and in
Hell Hole, and had come, without a trail, from Little
Hell Hole up to Rubicon. The quaking aspens were
dropping their leaves, the tang of coming winter was
in the air, mornings and evenings, yet the middle
of the day was so warm that we drank deeply of the
waters of the naturally carbonated springs. No,
this statement is scarcely one of fact. It was
warm, but had it been cold, we, or, at least, I should
have drank heartily of the waters because I liked
them. They are really delicious, and thousands
have testified to their healthfulness.

We saw the station of the water company, where a man
remains through the year to register the river’s
flow and the snowfall. Then we passed a large
lily lake to the left,—­a once bold glacial
lake now rapidly nearing the filled-up stage ere it
becomes a mountain meadow—­and were fairly
on the Georgetown grade, the sixty mile road that reaches
from McKinney’s to Georgetown. It is a
stern road, that would make the “rocky road
to Dublin” look like a “flowery bed of
ease,” though we followed it only a mile and
a half to leave it for the steep trail that reaches
Rock Bound Lake. This is one of the larger of
the small glacial lakes of the Tahoe Region, and is
near enough to Rubicon Springs to be reached easily
on foot.

From a knoll close by one gains an excellent panorama
of Dick’s, Jack’s and Ralston’s
Peaks. Tallac and Pyramid are not in sight.
The fishing here is excellent, the water deep and
cold and the lake large enough to give one all the
exercise he needs in rowing.

On the summit of the Georgetown road one looks down
upon the nearby placid bosom of Buck Island Lake.
It received this name from Hunsaker. The lake
is very irregular in shape, about a third of a mile
long, and a quarter of a mile wide in its widest part.
Near one end is a small island. Hunsaker found
the deer swam over to this island to rest and sleep
during the heat of the day, hence the name.

Page 140

[Illustration: Angora Lakes, Fallen Leaf Lake
and Lake Tahoe ]

[Illustration: White Cloud Falls, Cascade Lake]

[Illustration: Upper Eagle Falls, Emerald Bay,
Lake Tahoe]

The Little Rubicon river flows into Buck Island Lake
and out again, and about two miles below Rubicon Springs
the Georgetown road crosses the river at the foot
of the lake.

With these two lakes, and others not far away, fine
hunting and fishing, with several mountains nearby
for climbing, the hotsprings, a fine table and good
horses to ride it can well be understood that Rubicon
Springs makes a delightful summer stopping-place.
One great advantage that it possesses, under its present
proprietorship is that guests may alternate between
Moana Villa and the Springs and thus spend part of
their time on the Lake and the other part in the heart
of the mountains. The Colwells are hearty and
homelike hosts, and are devoted to giving their many
guests the greatest possible enjoyment, pleasure and
health that a summer’s vacation can contain.

CHAPTER XXI

EMERALD BAY AND CAMP

Situated near the southwest corner of Lake Tahoe is
Emerald Bay, by many thousands regarded as the choicest
portion of Lake Tahoe. Surrounded by so many
wonderful scenes, as one is at Tahoe, it is difficult
to decide which possesses surpassing power, but few
there are who see Emerald Bay without at once succumbing
to its allurement. Its geological history has
already been given in Chapter VIII, in which it is
clearly shown by Dr. Joseph Le Conte that it was once
a glacial lake, and that the entrance to the main
lake used to be the terminal moraine that separated
the two bodies of water. As a natural consequence,
therefore, visitors may expect to find evidences of
glacial action on every hand. They are not disappointed.
The walls of the Bay, on both north and south, are
composed of glacial detritus, that of the south being
a pure moraine, separating the once glacial lake of
Emerald Bay from Cascade Lake.

Emerald Bay is about three miles in length, with a
southwesterly trend, and half a mile wide. The
entrance is perhaps a quarter of a mile wide and is
formed by a triangular spit of sand, on which grows
a lone pine, on the one side, and a green chaparral-clad
slope, known as Eagle Point, on the other. The
Bay opens and widens a little immediately the entrance
is joined. The mountains at the head of the Bay
form a majestic background. To the southwest (the
left) is Mount Tallac, with a rugged, jagged and irregular
ridge leading to the west, disappearing behind two
tree-clad sister peaks, which dominate the southern
side of the Bay’s head. These are known
as Maggie’s Peaks (8540 and 8725 feet respectively,
that to the south being the higher), though originally
their name, like that of so many rounded, shapely,
twin peaks in the western world gained by the white

Page 141

man from the Indian, signified the well-developed
breasts of the healthy and vigorous maiden. Emerging
from behind these the further ridge again appears
with a nearer and smoother ridge, leading up to a broken
and jagged crest that pierces the sky in rugged outline.
A deep gorge is clearly suggested in front of this
ridge, in which Eagle Lake nestles, and the granite
mass which forms the eastern wall of this gorge towers
up, apparently higher than the nearer of Maggie’s
peaks, and is known as Phipps’ Peak (9000 feet).
This is followed by still another peak, nearer and
equally as high, leading the eye further to the north,
where its pine-clad ridge merges into more ridges striking
northward.

Between Maggie’s and Phipps’ Peaks the
rocky masses are broken down into irregular, half
rolling, half rugged foothills, where pines, firs,
tamaracks and cedars send their pointed spires upwards
from varying levels. In the morning hours, or
in the afternoon up to sunset, when the shadows reveal
the differing layers, rows, and levels of the trees,
they stand out with remarkable distinctness, each tree
possessing its own perfectly discernible individuality,
yet each contributing to the richness of the clothing
of the mountainside, as a whole.

Down across the lower portion of Maggie’s Peaks,
too to 200 feet above the level of the Bay, the new
automobile road has ruled its sloping line down to
the cut, where a sturdy rustic bridge takes it over
the stream which conveys the surplus waters from Eagle
Lake to the Bay. On the other side it is lost
in the rolling foothills and the tree-lined lower
slopes of Cathedral Peak from whence it winds and hugs
the Lake shore, over Rubicon Point to Tahoe Tavern.

But Emerald Bay has other romantic attractions besides
its scenery. In the early ’sixties Ben
Holladay, one of the founders of the great Overland
Stage system that reached from the Pacific Coast to
the Missouri River, built a pretentious house at the
head of the Bay. Naturally it was occupied by
the family only part of the time, and in 1879, a tramp,
finding it unoccupied, took up his lodgings therein,
and, as a mark of his royal departure, the structure
burned down the next morning. The site was then
bought by the well-known capitalist, Lux, of the great
cattle firm of Miller & Lux, and is now owned by Mrs.
Armstrong.

As the steamer slowly and easily glides down the Bay,
it circles around a rocky islet, on which a number
of trees find shelter. This island was inhabited
at one time by an eccentric Englishman, known as Captain
Dick, who, after having completed a cottage to live
in, carried out the serious idea of erecting a morgue,
or a mausoleum, as a means of final earthly deposit
upon dissolution. This queer-looking dog-house
might have become a sarcophagus had it not been for
one thing, viz., Captain Dick, one dark and stormy
night, having visited one of the neighboring resorts
where he had pressed his cordial intemperately, determined
to return to his solitary home. In vain the danger
was urged upon him. With characteristic obstinacy,
enforced by the false courage and destruction of his
ordinarily keen perception by the damnable liquor
that had “stolen away his brains,” he refused
to listen, pushed his sail-boat from the wharf and
was never seen again. His overturned boat was
afterwards found, blown ashore.

EMERALD BAY CAMP

Emerald Bay is made accessible to regular summer guests
by Emerald Bay Camp, one of the choice and highly
commendable resorts of the Tahoe region. The
Camp is located snugly among the pines of the north
side of the Bay, and consists of the usual hotel,
with nearby cottages and tents.

Less than five minutes’ walk connects it with
the picturesque Automobile Boulevard, which is now
connected with the Camp by an automobile road.
The distance is four-fifths of a mile and hundreds
of people now enjoy the hospitality of Emerald Bay
Camp who come directly to it in their own machines.

Its location suggests many advantages for the angler,
the famous Indian fishing grounds being located at
the mouth of the bay. Cascade, Eagle, and the
unfished Velma Lakes are easily accessible to trampers,
the outlets from these furnishing sporty brook trout
fishing. These streams and lakes are all stocked
with Eastern brook, Loch Levin and cutthroat.
The protected waters of the bay make boating safe and
bathing a comfortable delight.

But not all the beauty of nature and the advantages
of excellent location can make a popular camp.
There is much in the individuality of those who own
or “run” it. Emerald Bay Camp is owned
by Mr. Nelson L. Salter, for many years so favorably
known in the Yosemite Valley. Such is its growing
popularity that Mr. Salter has recently (1921) purchased
another ten acres of adjoining land, thus enlarging
his frontage on the Bay to about 1000 feet, and giving
him many more cottages for the entertainment of his
guests.

* * * *
*

EAGLE LAKE

From Emerald Bay Camp there are quite a number of
interesting trail and climbing trips, one of the commonest
of which is that to Eagle Lake.

Taking the trail west, one zigzags to the north until
the Automobile Boulevard is reached. A half mile’s
walk brings one to the bridge over Eagle Creek.
Here a few steps lead to the head of the upper portion
of Eagle Falls, which dash down a hundred feet or
so to the rocky ledge, from whence they fall to their
basin, ere they flow out to join the waters of Emerald
Bay.

Page 143

A few yards beyond the bridge the trail starts.
It is a genuine mountain trail, now over rough jagged
blocks of granite, then through groves of pines, firs,
tamaracks and spruces, where flowers, ferns, mosses
and liverworts delight the eyes as they gaze down,
and the spiculae and cones and blue sky thrill one
with delight as they look above, and where the sunlight
glitters through the trees as they look ahead.
To the right Eagle Creek comes noisily down, over falls
and cascades, making its own music to the accompaniment
of the singing voices of the trees. Now and again
the creek comes to a quiet, pastoral stretch, where
it becomes absolutely “still water”.
Not that it is motionless, but noiseless, covered
over with trees and vines, that reflect upon its calm
surface and half hide the trout that float so easily
and lazily through its clear, pure, cold stream.

There is enough of climbing to call into exercise
long unused muscles, the granite blocks are rough,
angular and irregular enough to exercise eyes, hands
and feet to keep one from falling, and the lungs are
filled with balsam-ladened mountain-air, fresh from
God’s own perfect laboratories, healing, vivifying,
rejuvenating, strengthening, while the heart is helped
on and encouraged to pump more and more of its blood,
drawn from long almost quiescent cells into the air-chambers
of the lungs, there to receive the purifying and life-giving
oxygen and other chemical elements that multiply the
leucocytes vastly and set them at work driving out
the disease germs that accumulate and linger in every
city-living man’s and woman’s system.

Suddenly from a little rise the lake is revealed.
Eagle Lake, or Pine Lake, or Spruce Lake, or Hidden
Lake, or Granite Lake, or Sheltered Lake—­any
of these names would be appropriate. Almost circular
in form—­that is if you are not expected
to be too rigidly exact in geometric terms—­it
is literally a jewel of lapis lazuli in a setting
of granite cliffs.

Here one may sit and rest, enjoying the placid waters
of the lake, the rugged grandeur of the immediate
cliffs, or the slopes of the towering mountains that
encircle the horizon.

Eagle Lake is but one of the hundred of glacially
made Sierran lakes of the Tahoe region, but a study
of its idiosyncrasies would reveal distinctive and
charming characteristics.

* * * *
*

CATHEDRAL PEAK

There are two Cathedral Peaks at Tahoe, one above
Cathedral Park on Fallen Leaf Lake, the other at the
rear of Emerald Bay Camp. Early in the season,
1914, three girls decided to climb this peak
from the camp although there was no trail. One
of them wrote the following account of the trip:

Page 144

The most interesting peak of the Rubicon
ridge is Cathedral. The mountain rises directly
back of Emerald Bay, some three thousand feet
above the Lake. About six hundred feet above the
camp there is a meadow where larkspur grows four
and five feet high. But from Eagle Creek
the aspect is quite different. There are
no soft contours. Huge rocks pile up—­one
great perpendicular surface adding five hundred
feet to the height—­into spires and
domes for all the world like some vast cathedral
which taunts the soul with its aloofness. If,
on some sunshiny afternoon you look up from the
camp and see a ghost-moon hanging, no more than
a foot above the highest spire, you must surely
be “citified” if you do not pause to drink
in its weird sublimity and wild beauty.

Many winters of storm and snow have
loosed the rocks and carried them down the mountain.
Those thrown down years ago are moss-covered and
have collected enough soil in their crevices to
nourish underbrush and large trees. But there
are bare rocks along Eagle Creek to-day large
enough for a man to hew a cabin from. Standing
in awe of their size one surely must look curiously
up the mountain to find the spaces they once occupied.
Then, taking in the size of the peak it is equally
natural that one should be filled with a desire to
climb it and look down the other side and across
the vista to the neighboring ranges. While
we were getting used to the altitude we stood
below admiring. Every evening we went out on
the wharf, gazed up at its grandeur and discussed
the best way to go, for though we knew we should
have to break our own trail, we had decided to
attempt the climb. We set a day and the hour
for rising; the night before laid out our tramping
clothes and religiously went to bed at eight.
I doubt if any of us slept, for we were used to
later hours and excitement kept us awake.

As it was the first trip of the season,
we lost some time at the start, admiring each
others’ costumes. Two of us adhered to
the regulation short skirt and bloomers, but the third
girl wore trousers, poked into the top of her high
boots. This proved, by far, the most satisfactory
dress before the day’s tramping was done.
We got started at four-thirty. The first awakened
birds were twittering. The shadows of the moraine
lay reflected in the unruffled surface of the
Bay. Gradually rosy flushes showed in the
east. By the time we reached the meadow the
sun rose suddenly above the Nevada mountains and some
of the chill went out of the atmosphere.

The meadow was flooded with snow-water.
Beyond, the mountain rose by sheer steps of rock
with slides of decomposed granite between.
We avoided the under-brush as far as possible, preferring
to take back and forth across the loose granite.
The wind came up as we left the meadow, grew in
force as we climbed. Some one suggested breakfast,
and then there began a search for a sheltered

Page 145

place. A spot sided by three bowlders away
from under-brush was decided upon. By the time
the fire was built the wind was a gale sending
the flames leaping in every direction—­up
the rocks and up our arms as we broiled the bacon.
Breakfast was a failure, as far as comfort was
concerned. It was a relief when we finally
tramped out the embers and resumed our journey.

The top of a long snow-drift was a previously
chosen land-mark. It was seven when we reached
the top of it. Some one came out on the Bay
in a row-boat—­we were too high for recognition—­thought
better of it and went back. Towards the top
we left the decomposed granite and underbrush behind,
climbing the rocks in preference to the snow, where
the choice was allowed us. The wind howled
and shrieked, and blew with a force great enough
to destroy balance, while its icy touch brought
the blood tingling to our cheeks.

At last we reached the summit.
And oh! the joy of achievement.

All Rubicon ridge and its neighbors,
as far as the eye could see, were white with snow;
the lakes in the valley below were still frozen—­only
one showing any blue. Clouds came up rapidly
from the west, rushed by to the Nevada side where
they piled up in great cumulous heaps. The
apex of Pyramid was cloud-capped all day.
Shifting gusts drove the waters of Tahoe scurrying
first this way, then that. Where in the early
morning every tree had viewed her image among the
reflected tints of sunrise, at ten-thirty white-caps
flashed and disappeared to flash in a different
place among the everchanging eddies. Cascade
and Fallen Leaf Lakes presented a continuous procession
of white-caps to the east, while Eagle lay black
and sinister in the shadow of Maggie’s Peaks.

After lunch, the wind blowing too cold
for comfort, we started home, straight down—­over
snow, granite and underbrush—­till we
hit the State Highway. Here we found a sheltered
place by a creek and talked over the day’s
happenings.

Along the roadside we drew up a resolution
on the satisfaction of the trip. The girl
who had been cold all day didn’t ever want
to see snow again, but already the others were discussing
a possible ascent from the Eagle Creek side—­so
great is the lure of the high places.

CHAPTER XXII

AL-TAHOE

Al-Tahoe, four miles east of Tallac, is one of the
newer, better and more fashionable and pretentious
resorts recently established at the south end of the
Lake. Its projectors saw the increasing demand
for summer residences on the Lake, and realizing to
the full the superior advantages of this location,
they divided their large holding into suitable villa
and bungalow sites, and other lots, and readily disposed
of a number of them to those who were ready to build.
To further the colonizing plans of these chosen and
selected purchasers a fine, modern, well-equipped

Page 146

hotel was erected, replete with every convenience
and luxury that progressive Americans now expect and
demand in their chosen resorts. The result is
quite a settlement has grown up, and Al-Tahoe sees
ahead an era of rapid growth and prosperity.
Its homes are substantial and beautiful and indicate
that John LeConte’s prophecy, elsewhere quoted,
is already coming to pass. Pasadena capitalists
are behind the hotel and town project.

Being advantageously located on the State and National
automobile boulevard, and near to all the choice mountain,
lake and other resorts of the southern end of Tahoe,
it appeals to those who wish to combine equally ready
access to civilization with the wild ruggedness and
infinite variety of many-featured Nature.

It is situated on a high plateau, gently sloping from
the bluff, with a Lake-frontage of about three quarters
of a mile. The land rises with a gentle slope
to the edge of the terrace facing the stream, meadow,
and mountains on the south.

With no stagnant water, there are practically no mosquitoes,
and it is confessedly one of the most healthful spots
of all this health giving region. Being on a
lea shore, the cold air from the snowy summits of
the mountains tempered by the warm soil of the foothills
and level area, there is no place on the Lake better
adapted for bathing and boating, especially as the
beach is sandy and shallow, sloping off for some distance
from the shore.

The accompanying photographs give some idea of the
hotel and its cottages, together with some Al-Tahoe
homes. The water supply for the town and hotel
is gained from beautiful and pure Star Lake, 3000 feet
higher than Lake Tahoe, and where snow may be seen
during the entire year. The Al-Tahoe Company
owns its own electric generating plant and supplies
all the cottages with electric light.

The hotel itself is conducted on the American plan,
and in every modern way meets the requirements of
the most exacting patrons. Amusements of every
kind are provided, and there is a good livery stable
and automobile garage.

The town itself is being built up with a select class
of summer residents. No saloons are allowed.
There are still desirable lots for sale, and the Al-Tahoe
Company, or L.H. Bannister, the Postmaster, will
be glad to correspond with any who contemplate purchasing
or building. Letters may be addressed to either
at Al-Tahoe, Lake Tahoe, Calif.

CHAPTER XXIII

GLEN ALPINE SPRINGS

The earliest of all the resorts of the Tahoe region
away from the shores of Tahoe itself, Glen Alpine
Springs still retains its natural supremacy.
Located seven miles away from Tallac, reached by excellent
roads in automobile stages, sequestered and sheltered,
yet absolutely in the very heart of the most interesting
part of the Tahoe region, scenically and geologically,
it continues to attract an increasing number of the
better class of guests that annually visit these divinely-favored
California Sierras. John Muir wrote truthfully
when he said:

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The Glen Alpine Springs tourist resort
seems to me one of the most delightful places
in all the famous Tahoe region. From no other
valley, as far as I know, may excursions be made in
a single day to so many peaks, wild gardens, glacier
lakes, glacier meadows, and Alpine groves, cascades,
etc.

The drive from Tallac around Fallen Leaf Lake under
trees whose boles form arch or portal, framing pictures
of the sunny lake, is a memorable experience; then
on past Glen Alpine Falls, Lily Lake, and Modjeska
Falls, up the deep mountain glen, where the road ends
at the hospitable cottages, log-houses and spacious
tents of Glen Alpine.

Here is the world-famous spring, discovered in the
’fifties by Nathan Gilmore (for whom Gilmore
Lake is named). Mr. Gilmore was born in Ohio,
but, when a mere youth, instead of attending college
and graduating in law as his parents had arranged for
and expected, he yielded to the lure of the California
gold excitement, came West, and in 1850 found himself
in Placerville. In due time he married, and to
the sickness of his daughter Evelyn, now Mrs. John
L. Ramsay, of Freewater, Ore., is owing his discovery
of Glen Alpine. The doctor ordered him to bring
the child up into the mountains. Accompanied
by an old friend, Barton Richardson, of the James
Barton Key family of Philadelphia, he came up to Tallac,
with the ailing child and its mother. Being of
active temperament he and Mr. Richardson scaled Mt.
Tallac, and in returning were much entranced by Fallen
Leaf Lake. Later Mr. Gilmore came to Fallen Leaf
alone, wandering over its moraines and lingering by
its shores to drink in its impressive and growingly-overpowering
beauty. In those days there was no road at the
southern end of Fallen Leaf and the interested explorer
was perforce led to follow the trails of bear, deer
and other wild animals. Rambling through the woods,
some two miles above the lake he came to a willow-surrounded
swampy place, where the logs and fallen trees were
clearly worn by the footprints of many generations
of wild animals. Prompted by curiosity he followed
the hidden trail, saw where a small stream of mineral-stained
water was flowing, observed where the deer, etc.,
had licked the stones, and finally came to the source
in what he afterwards called Glen Alpine Springs.
Scientific observation afterwards showed that the water
had an almost uniform temperature, even in the hottest
days of summer, of 39.6 degrees Fahr., and that there
was free carbonic acid gas to the extent of 138.36
cubic inches. The analysis revealed that each
U.S. gallon contained grains as follows:

The water is pleasant to the taste, and, as has been
shown, highly charged with carbonic acid gas; its
action is diuretic, laxative and stimulative to the
entire digestive tract. Eminent physicians claim
that it is beneficial in dyspepsia, torpid liver, kidney
and bladder irritation, and is also a tonic.

Whether this be true or not I cannot say, but I do
know that every time I go to Glen Alpine I drink freely
and abundantly of the water, to my great physical
pleasure and satisfaction. It is one of the most
delicious sparkling waters I have ever tasted, as gratifying
to the palate and soothing to the fevered mucous membranes
as Apollinaris or Shasta Water, and I am not alone
in the wish I often express, viz., that I might
have such a spring in my backyard at home.

One result of this discovery was that Mr. Gilmore
decided to locate upon the land. As soon as the
first claim was made secure a rude one-roomed cabin
was built and Mr. Richardson was the first guest.
Preparatory to bringing his family, Mr. Gilmore added
two more rooms, and to render ingress easier he built
a road to intersect with the Tallac road at the northern
end of Fallen Leaf Lake. As this had to be blasted
out with black powder,—­it was before the
days of dynamite,—­Mr. Gilmore’s devotion
to the place can be well understood.

When his daughters grew up, they and their friends
came here to spend their summers, and by and by, almost
unconsciously, but pleasantly and agreeably, the place
became a public resort. Though Mr. Gilmore has
long since passed on, having died in Placerville, Calif.,
in the year 1898, Glen Alpine Springs is still in
the ownership of his family, and its management and
direction is entirely in their hands.

As in the beginning they have ever sought to preserve
its character of simplicity. It is their aim
that everything should be as primitive as possible,
consonant with healthfulness, privacy and comfort.
While no sanitary precautions are neglected, and water,
hot and cold, is extravagantly provided, with free
shower baths, there are none of the frills and furbelows
that generally convert these—­what should
be—­simple nature resorts into bad imitations
of the luxurious hotels of the city. There are
positively no dress events. Men and women are
urged to bring their old clothes and wear them out
here, or provide only khaki or corduroy, with short
skirts, bloomers and leggings for the fair sex.
Strong shoes are required; hob-nailed if one expects
to do any climbing. Wraps for evening, and heavy
underwear for an unusual day (storms sometimes come
in Sierran regions unexpectedly), are sensible precautions.

Page 149

Sleeping out-of-doors is one of the features of the
place, an invigorating, rejuvenating joy, which Mark
Twain affirmed was able to destroy any amount of fatigue
that a person’s body could gather. Visitors
are given their choice of a comfortable bed in the
open, in a cottage, tent, or one of the main buildings.
There are practically no rules at Glen Alpine save
those that would operate in any respectable home.
No liquors are sold, and visitors are frankly told
that “If they must have liquid stimulants they
must bring them along.” In order that those
who desire to sleep may not be disturbed by the thoughtlessness
of others, music is prohibited after ten o’clock.
One of the delights of the place is the nightly camp-fire.
Here is a large open space, close to the spring, surrounded
by commodious and comfortable canvas seats, that will
easily hold eight or ten persons, the blazing fire
is started every evening. Those who have musical
instruments—­guitars, banjos, mandolins,
flutes, cornets, violins, and even the plebeian accordion
or the modest Jew’s-harp—­are requested
to bring them. Solos, choruses, hymns and college
songs are indulged in to the heart’s content.
Now and again dances are given, and when any speaker
arrives who is willing to entertain the guests, a talk,
lecture or sermon is arranged for.

Three things are never found at Glen Alpine.
These are poison-oak, rattlesnakes and poisonous insects.
The rowdy, gambling and carousing element are equally
absent, for should they ever appear, they speedily
discover their lack of harmony and voluntarily retire.

While the Glen Alpine resort is not situated directly
on one of the lakes, it owns over twenty boats on
eight of the nearby lakes, and the use of these is
freely accorded to its guests. That it is in close
proximity to lakes and peaks is evidenced by the following
table, which gives the distance in miles from the
hotel:

Page 150

As the proprietors of Glen Alpine ask: “Where
else outside of Switzerland is there a like region
of lakes (forty-odd) and world of Sierran grandeur,
such air with the tonic of altitude, mineral-spring
water, trout-fishing, and camaraderie of kindred spirits!”

While the foregoing list gives a comprehensive suggestion
of the wide reach of Glen Alpine’s territory
there are several especial peaks and lakes that are
peculiarly its own. These are Pyramid, Agassiz,
Dicks, Jacks, Richardsons, Ralston, and the Angora
Peaks, Mount Tallac, Mosquito Pass, and Lakes Olney,
LeConte, Heather, Susie, Grass, Lucile, Margery, and
Summit with Lake of the Woods and others in Desolation
Valley, Gilmore, Half Moon, Alta, Morris, Lily, Tamarack,
Rainbow, Grouse, and the Upper and Lower Echo.
Desolation Valley and all its surroundings is also
within close reach. This is some four miles westward
of Glen Alpine Springs, and is reached by way of easy
mountain trails under sweet-scented pines and gnarled
old junipers; besides singing streams; across crystal
lakes, through a cliff-guarded glade where snowbanks
linger until midsummer, ever renewing the carpet of
green, decking it with heather and myriad exquisite
mountain blossoms. On, over a granite embankment,
and lo! your feet are stayed and your heart is stilled
as your eyes behold marvelous Desolation Valley.
Greeting you on its southern boundary stands majestic
Pyramid Peak, with its eternal snows. Lofty companions
circling to your very feet make the walls forming
the granite cradle of Olney, the Lake of Mazes.
The waters are blue as the skies above them, and pure
as the melting snows from Pyramid which form them.
He who has not looked upon this, the most remarkable
of all the wonder pictures in the Tahoe region, has
missed that for which there is no substitute.

The whole Glen Alpine basin,—­which practically
extends from the Tallac range on the north, from Heather
Lake Pass (the outlet from Desolation Valley) and
Cracked Crag on the west and southwest, Ralston Peak
and range to the south and the Angora Peaks on the
east,—­is one mass of glacial scoriations.
Within a few stone-throws of the spring, on a little-used
trail to Grass Lake, there are several beautiful and
interesting markings. One of these is a finely
defined curve or groove, extending for 100 feet or
more, above which, about 11/2 feet, is another groove,
some two to four feet wide. These run rudely parallel
for some distance, then unite and continue as one.
Coming back to the trail—­a hundred or so
feet away,—­on the left hand side returning
to the spring, is a gigantic sloping granite block,
perfectly polished with glacial action, and black
as though its surface had been coated in the process.
Near here the trail ducks or markers are placed
in a deep grooving or trough three or four feet wide,
and of equal depth, while to the right are two other
similar troughs working their winding and tortuous
way into the valley beneath.

Page 151

In Chapter VIII an idea is given of the movements
of the great glaciers that formed Desolation Valley
and all the nearby lakes, as well as Glen Alpine basin.
These gigantic ice-sheets, with their firmly-wedged
carving blocks of granite, moved over the Heather Lake
Pass, gouging out that lake, and Susie Lake, in its
onward march, and then, added to by glacial flows
from Cracked Crag, the southern slopes of the Tallac
range, and the Angora Peaks, it passed on and down,
shaping this interestingly rugged, wild and picturesque
basin as we find it to-day. How many centuries
of cutting and gouging, beveling and grooving were
required to accomplish this, who can tell? Never
resting, never halting, ever moving, irresistibly cutting,
carving, grinding and demolishing, it carried away
its millions of millions of tons of rocky debris in
bowlders, pebbles, sand and mud, and thus helped make
the gigantic moraines of Fallen Leaf Lake. The
ice-flow itself passed along over where the terminal
moraine now stands, cutting out Fallen Leaf Lake basin
in its movement, and finally rested in the vast bowl
of Lake Tahoe.

To the careful student every foot of Glen Alpine basin
is worthy of study, and he who desires to further
the cause of science will do well to make a map of
his observations, recording the direction, appearance,
depth, length and width of all the glacial markings
he discovers. On the U.S. Government maps
the stream flowing through Glen Alpine basin is marked
as Eau Claire Creek. To the proprietors of Glen
Alpine, and the visitors, the French name is absurd
and out of place. No Frenchman has ever resided
here, and if it was desired to call it Clear Water
Creek, why not use good, understandable, common-sense
English. At the request of those most intimately
concerned, therefore, the name has been changed on
the map that accompanies this volume, to Glen Alpine
Creek, a name that “belongs” and to which
no one can possibly have any objection.

CHAPTER XXIV

FALLEN LEAF LAKE AND ITS RESORTS

Fallen Leaf Lake is a noble body of water, three and
a half miles long and about one mile across.
Why it is called Fallen Leaf is fully explained in
the chapter on Indian Legends. Some people have
thought it was named from its shape, but this cannot
be, for, from the summit of Mt. Tallac, every
one instantly notices its resemblance to the imprint
of a human foot. It is shaped more like a cork-sole,
as if cut out of the solid rock, filled up with a
rich indigo-blue fluid, and then made extra beautiful
and secluded with a rich tree and plant growth on
every slope that surrounds it.

The color of the water is as richly blue as is Tahoe
itself, and there is the same suggestion of an emerald
ring around it, as in the larger Lake, though this
ring is neither so wide nor so highly colored.

In elevation it is some 80 feet above Lake Tahoe,
thus giving it an altitude of 6300 feet.

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At the upper end, near Fallen Leaf Lodge, under the
cliffs it has a depth of over 380 feet, but it becomes
much shallower at the northern or lower end near the
outlet. Its surroundings are majestic and enthralling
as well as picturesque and alluring. On the west
Mt. Tallac towers its nearly 10,000 feet into
the sea of the upper air, flanked on the south by
the lesser noble and majestic Cathedral Peak.
In the earlier part of the season when these are covered
with snow, the pure white materially enhances the
splendor of both mountain and lake by enriching their
varied colorings with the marked contrast.

[Illustration: Glen Alpine Falls]

[Illustration: Glimpse of Grass Lake, looking
across and up Glen Alpine Canyon]

[Illustration: The Triumphant Angler, Lake Tahoe]

To the southwest rise the Angora Peaks, and these
likewise catch, and hold the winter’s snow,
often, like Mt. Tallac, retaining beds of neve
from year to year.

To the geological student, especially one interested
in glacial phenomena, the lateral and terminal moraines
of Fallen Leaf Lake are of marked and unusual interest.
The moraine on the east is upwards of 1000 feet high,
and is a majestic ridge, clothed from the lake shore
to its summit with a rich growth of pines, firs and
hemlocks. Its great height and bulk will suggest
to the thoughtful reader the questions as to how it
was formed, and whence came all the material of its
manufacture. It extends nearly the whole length
of the lake, diminishing somewhat in size at the northern
end. There is a corresponding moraine on the
western side not less compelling in its interest though
scarcely as large in size as its eastern counterpart.
The terminal moraine, which is the one that closed
up the lake, separating and raising it above the level
of Lake Tahoe, is a less noble mound, yet geologically
it allures the mind and demands study as much as the
others. In Chapter VIII, Dr. Joseph LeConte’s
theories are given in full explaining the various
glacial phenomena connected with this lake.

The fish of Fallen Leaf are practically the same as
those of Tahoe, though rod and fly fishing is more
indulged in here.

Boating, canoeing and the use of the motor boat are
daily recreations, and swimming is regularly indulged
in during the summer season.

FALLEN LEAF LODGE

The distinguishing characteristics of this resort
are simplicity, home-likeness, unostentation.
It makes its appeal especially to the thoughtful and
the studious, the not luxuriously rich, those who love
Nature rather than the elegance of a first-class hotel,
and who desire to climb trails, study trees, hunt,
fish, and generally recreate out-of-doors rather than
dress and fare sumptuously.

It is situated on the southwestern edge of Fallen
Leaf Lake, five miles from Tallac, reached by a road
that winds through the trees of the Baldwin estate,
and then skirts the eastern and southern shores of
the Lake. Stages—­horse and automobile—­run
daily during the season and meet all the steamers
at Tallac.

Page 153

The “Lodge” consists of a number of detached
buildings, conveniently and picturesquely scattered
among the pines on the slopes and at the edge of the
lake. There are dining hall, social hall, post
office, store, electric power-house, boat-house, with
stables far enough away to be sanitary, and cottages
and tents located in every suitable nook that can
be found. There are one, two or three-roomed cottages,
tents, single and double, all in genuine camp style.
There is no elegance or luxury, though most of the
cottages have modern toilets, porcelain bath-tubs
with running hot and cold water. Electric lights
are everywhere.

The camp has been in existence now (1915) for seven
years and each year has seen considerable enlargement
and improvement, until now Fallen Leaf Lodge in the
heart of the summer season is an active, busy, happy
and home-like community.

The table is wholesome, substantial and appetizing.
There is no pretense at elaborateness. Home-cooking,
well served, of simple and healthful dishes, in reasonable
variety, is all that is offered.

Needless to say there is no bar or saloon, though
there is no attempt to compel a personal standpoint
on the liquor question upon those who are accustomed
to the use of alcoholic liquors at meals.

In its natural beauties and advantages Fallen Leaf
Lodge claims—­and with strong justification—­one
of the very best of locations. Fallen Leaf Lake
is large enough to give scope to all the motor-boats,
row-boats, canoes and launches that are likely to be
brought to it for the next hundred years, and ten
thousand fishermen could successfully angle upon its
bosom or along its shores. For millions of Tahoe
trout, rainbow, Eastern brook, Loch Levin, Mackinac
and German brown have been put into this and nearby
lakes in the last few years. While some jerk-line
fishing is indulged in, this lake, unlike Lake Tahoe,
affords constant recreation for the more sportsmanlike
fly-fishing.

Another of the special advantages of Fallen Leaf Lodge
is its possession of a fine log-house and camp on
the shore of Lake of the Woods, five miles away, in
Desolation Valley. To those who wish to fish
in greater solitude, to climb the peaks of the Crystal
Range, or boat over the many and various lakes of
Desolation Valley this is a great convenience.

Nothing can surpass the calm grandeur of the setting
of this glorious beautiful water. Lying at the
lower edge of Desolation Valley and facing stupendous
mountains, the picture it presents, with Pyramid Peak
reflected in its gorgeously lit-up sunset waters, is
one that will forever linger in the memory.

The close proximity of Fallen Leaf Lodge to Mt.
Tallac, Cathedral Peak, the Angora Peaks, Mounts Jack,
Dick, and Richardson, Ralston Peak, Keith’s
Dome, Maggie’s Peaks, Tell’s Peak, with
the towering peaks of the Crystal Range—­Pyramid
and Agassiz—­to the west, and Freel’s,
Job’s and Job’s Sister to the southeast,
afford an abundance and variety of mountain-climbing
that are seldom found in any region, however favored.

Page 154

But in addition to the peaks there are Sierran lakes
galore, rich in unusual beauty and picturesqueness,
and most of them stocked with trout that compel the
exertion of the angler’s skill, as much as tickle
the palate of the uncorrupted epicure. Close by
are Cascade, Cathedral, Floating Island, Echo, Heather,
Lucile, Margery, Gilmore, Le Conte, Lily, Susie, Tamarack,
Grouse, Lake of the Woods, Avalanche, Pit, Crystal,
Pyramid, Half Moon, with the marvelous and alluring
maze of lakes, bays, straits, channels, inlets and
“blind alleys” of the Lake Olney of the
ever-fascinating Desolation Valley. And those
I have named are all within comparatively easy walking
distance to the ordinarily healthful and vigorous
man or woman. For those who seek more strenuous
exercise, or desire horse-back or camping-out trips
another twenty, aye fifty lakes, within a radius of
fifty miles may be found, with their connecting creeks,
streams and rivers where gamey trout abound, and where
flowers, shrubs and trees in never-ceasing variety
and charm tempt the botanist and nature-lover.

While to some it may not be an attraction, to others
there may be both pleasure and interest in witnessing
the operations of the Fallen Leaf sawmill. This
is situated on the western side of the lake, and is
a scene of activity and bustle when logging and lumbering
are in progress. On the hills about the lake
the “fellers” may be found, chopping their
way into the hearts of the forest monarchs of pine,
fir and cedar, and then inserting the saw, whose biting
teeth soon cut from rim to rim and cause the crashing
downfall of trees that have stood for centuries.
Denuded of their limbs these are then sawn into appropriate
lengths, “snaked” by chains pulled by powerful
horses to the “chute”, down which they
are shot into the lake, from whence they are easily
towed to the mill. The chute consists of felled
logs, laid side by side, evenly and regularly, so
as to form a continuous trough. This is greased,
so that when the heavy logs are placed therein they
slide of their own weight, where there is a declivity,
and are easily dragged or propelled on the level ground.

I use the word propelled to suggest the interesting
method used in these chutes. Sometimes ten or
a dozen logs will be placed, following each other,
a few feet apart, on the trough (the chute). A
chain is fastened to the rear end of the hindermost
log. This chain is attached to a single-tree
fastened to a horse’s harness. The horse
is started. This makes the hinder log strike
the next one, this bumps into the third and gives
it a start, in its turn it bumps the fourth, the fourth
the fifth, and so on, until the whole dozen are in
motion. Had the string of logs been fastened
together, the horse would have found it impossible
to move them, but “propelling” them in
this fashion they are all set in motion, and their
inertia once overcome there is no difficulty experienced
in keeping them going.

Page 155

The views from Fallen Leaf Lodge are varied and beautiful,
one in particular being especially enchanting.
Over the Terminal moraine, across the hidden face
of Lake Tahoe, the eye falls upon the mountains in
Nevada, on the far-away eastern side. In the soft
light of evening they look like fairy mountains, not
real rocky masses of gigantic, rugged substance, but
something painted upon the horizon with delicate fingers,
and in tints and shades to correspond, for they look
tenderer and sweeter, gentler and lovelier than anything
man could conceive or execute.

The owner of Fallen Leaf Lodge is Professor William
W. Price, a graduate of Stanford University, who first
came into this region to study and catch special Sierran
birds and other fauna for the Smithsonian Institution,
the American Museum of Natural History, and the British
Museum. Later, when he founded the Agassiz school
for boys, at Auburn, California, he established Camp
Agassiz near Fallen Leaf Lake, in a grove of pines,
firs, and cedars. Assisted by other university
men he made of this an ideal open-air school and camp
for boys. They were taught such practical things
as to take care of themselves in the mountains, find
a trail, or go to a given spot without a trail, fish,
hunt, make camp, build fires in a rain-storm, find
proper shelter during a lightning-storm, carry a pack,
pack a mule or burro, even to the throwing of the
“diamond hitch,” the “squaw hitch,”
and the “square” or other packer’s
especial “knots” and “ties”.
They were induced to climb mountains, row, swim, “ski”,
and snow-slide, and all were taught to recognize at
sight the common birds, smaller wild animals, trees,
and flowers. Frequent camping-out trips were
arranged for, and the youngsters thus gained health,
vigor and permanent strength while doing what they
all enjoyed doing.

In due time the parents wished to share the fun, joy,
and out-of-door experiences of their youngsters; then
the friends, and those who heard about them, and out
of the numerous requests for accommodations Fallen
Leaf Lodge was born. For a time Mr. Price tried
an ordinary hotel manager, but the peculiar and individualistic
needs of his peculiar and individualistic camp at
length led Mrs. Price and himself to take the complete
control. From that time its success has been continuous.

Mr. Price is a scientific expert upon the flora (especially
the trees), the birds and the four-footed fauna of
the whole region, and his readiness and willingness
to communicate his knowledge to his guests is a great
advantage to the studious and inquiring.

Owing to the demands made upon his time by the management
of Fallen Leaf Lodge Mr. Price has transferred his
school into other hands, and has given up the Boys’
Camp, though the lads are still welcome, with their
parents, as regular guests at the Lodge.

It should be noted that Fallen Leaf Lodge is but two
miles from Glen Alpine Springs and that all that is
said of the close proximity of the most interesting
features of the southern end of the Lake Tahoe region
to Glen Alpine, applies with equal force (plus the
two miles) to Fallen Leaf Lodge.

Page 156

CATHEDRAL PARK ON FALLEN LEAF LAKE

One of the newest of the Tahoe region resorts is that
of Cathedral Park, located on the western side of
Fallen Leaf Lake. It was opened in the latter
part of the season of 1912 by Carl Fluegge. Everything
about it is new, from the flooring of the tents to
the fine dining-room, cottages and stables. A
special road has been constructed on the west side
of the lake, over which Cathedral Park stages run
daily the three and a half miles, to meet every steamer
during the season at Tallac.

Rising directly from the edge of the lake, surrounded
by majestic trees, protected by the gigantic height
of Mt. Tallac (9785 feet) from the western winds,
a clear open view of Fallen Leaf Lake and the thousand-feet
high lateral moraine on the eastern side is obtained;
there could be no better location for such a resort.

The distinctive features of Cathedral Park are simplicity
and home-comforts, with special advantages for hunting,
fishing and camping out. For ten years Mr. Fluegge
has taken out some of the most distinguished patrons
of the Tahoe region in his capacity as expert guide
and huntsman. He knows every trail thoroughly
and has scaled every mountain of the surrounding country.
He knows the habits and haunts of bear, deer, and
other game, and is a successful hunter of them, as
well as of grouse and quail. His office and social-hall
bear practical evidence of his prowess and skill in
the mounted heads of deer, and the dressed skins of
bear that he has shot. He is also an expert angler,
and well acquainted with the best fishing in Granite,
Eagle, the Rock-Bound, Gilmore and other lakes, as
well as those closer at hand. There are twelve
such lakes within easy reach of Cathedral Park.
Fishing and hunting are his hobbies and delights,
hence he makes a thoroughly competent, because interested,
and interesting guide. Nothing pleases him more
than to get out with his guests and assist them in
their angling and hunting. To aid in this he
has established his own permanent camp at the beautiful
Angora Lakes, four miles from Cathedral Park, which
is placed freely at the disposal of his guests.

Especial arrangements are made for the perfect and
satisfactory accommodation of guests who desire to
sleep out of doors. Tents, sleeping porches and
platforms are arranged with a view to the strictest
privacy, and those who desire this healthful open-air
mode of life can nowhere be better accommodated than
here. As Mark Twain has said, it is the “open
air” sleeping in the Lake Tahoe region that
is so beneficial. Again to quote him: “The
air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine,
bracing and delicious. And why shouldn’t
it be?—­it is the same the angels breathe.
I think that hardly any amount of fatigue can be gathered
together that a man cannot sleep off in one night
here. Not under a roof, but under the sky.”
Therefore Cathedral Park says to those who wish to
breathe the same air as the angels while they are
yet on the earth: Come to us and we will meet
your reasonable wishes in every possible way.

Page 157

The presence of Mrs. Fluegge, who is associated with
her husband in the management, guarantees to ladies,
whether unaccompanied, or with their families, the
best of care, and the former are especially invited
to come and test the homelike qualities of the place.

The water supply of Cathedral Park is gained from
its own springs, on the mountain side above the resort.
It is piped down to every tent or cottage and the
supply is superabundant. Fish are caught almost
daily on the landing in front of the hotel. Fallen
Leaf is an ideal spot for rowing, canoeing, and launch
rides, and the hotel owns its own launch in which
parties are regularly taken around the lake. During
the summer season bathing is as delightful here as
in any of the seaside resorts of the Atlantic and
Pacific, and almost every one takes a plunge daily.

A camp-fire is built every night, where singing, storytelling,
and open air amusements of an impromptu nature are
indulged in to one’s heart’s content,
though visitors are all expected to remember the rights
of others and not keep too late hours.

Informal dances are indulged in occasionally and everything
is done to promote the comfort, pleasure and enjoyment
of the guests that earnest desire, constant watchfulness
and long experience can suggest.

The table is simple and homelike, but abundant, well-served
and satisfactory. This department is entirely
under the control of Mrs. Fluegge, who never employs
any other than white help in the kitchen. Fresh
fruit and vegetables, lake trout and game in season,
fresh milk and cream, with everything of the best
that the markets afford, are none too good for the
guests at Cathedral Park.

Unlike most of the Lake Tahoe resorts, it keeps open
throughout the whole year, and is managed with but
one idea, viz., to give absolute and complete
satisfaction to all its guests.

Its rates are reasonable, and especial prices are
given to children under ten years of age and to families
who wish to stay for any length of time.

The short trail to Mount Tallac rises directly from
Cathedral Park, and all that has been said of the
close proximity of Glen Alpine and Fallen Leaf Lodge
to the most interesting peaks, lakes, etc., of
the Tahoe region applies with equal force to Cathedral
Park, plus the short additional distance, which is
something less than a mile.

Mr. Fluegge will be glad to correspond with those
contemplating a visit to Cathedral Park, especially
should they desire his services for hunting, fishing,
or camping-out trips of a few days or a month’s
duration. The address is Cathedral Park, Tallac
P.O., Lake Tahoe, California.

CHAPTER XXV

Page 158

LAKESIDE PARK

Situated on the shore of Lake Tahoe and at the same
time on the great Lincoln Highway stretching from
the Atlantic to the Pacific,—­a division
of the State Automobile Highway reaching from Sacramento,
California, to Carson City, Nevada, via Placerville,
Lakeside Park is readily reached by travelers from
every direction, whether they come by steamer, buggy,
or automobile. The Lakeside Park hotel was established
in 1892 and has an enviable reputation. It consists
of hotel, with adjacent cottages and tents, comfortably
furnished and equipped with every healthful necessity.
Here surrounded by beautiful trees, that sing sweet
songs to the touch of the winds, drinking in health
and vigor from their balsamic odors, enjoying the invigorating
sunshine and the purifying breezes coming from mountain,
forest and Lake, swimming in the Lake, rowing, canoeing,
climbing mountain trails, exploring rocky and wooded
canyons, fishing, hunting, botanizing, studying geology
in one of the most wonderful volumes Nature has ever
written, sleeping out-of-doors under the trees and
the glowing stars after being lulled to rest by the
soothing lappings of the gentle waves upon the beach—­who
can conceive a more ideal vacation-time than this.

Unlike many parts of Lake Tahoe, Lakeside Park possesses
a fine stretch of beautiful, clean, sandy beach.
There are no rocks, deep holes, tide or undertow.
Children can wade, bathe or swim in perfect safety
as the shore gradually slopes into deeper water.

The whole settlement is abundantly supplied with purest
spring water which is piped down from its source high
on the mountain slopes to the south. The hotel
is fully equipped with hot and cold water for baths
and all other needed purposes, and there is a good
store, well stocked livery stable, row-boats, steam
laundry and home dairy.

The store carries a very complete line of provisions
and supplies, fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, dairy-produce,
ice, hay, grain, lumber, shingles, stove-wood, paints,
gasoline—­in fact, everything that is likely
to be in demand in such a community. Camp-fire
wood is abundant and free to patrons. This is
particularly advantageous for those who wish to tent
and “board themselves.” Housekeeping
tents are provided, on platforms in the grove, at
reasonable rates, and the hotel owns its pasture in
which the horses of patrons are cared for free of
charge.

The location of Lakeside Park in relation to Lake
Tahoe is peculiarly advantageous in that it affords
daily opportunity for driving, horseback-riding or
walking directly along the shore for miles. Indeed
the twelve mile drive to Glenbrook is one of the noted
drives of the world, taking in the celebrated Cave
Rock, and giving the widest possible outlooks of the
whole expanse of the Lake.

Patrons of the hotel or camps are assured that there
are no rattlesnakes, fleas, malaria, fogs, or poison
oak. The character and tone of the place will
also be recognized when it is known that saloons and
gambling resorts are absolutely prohibited in the
residential tract.

Page 159

The most majestic of all the mountains of Lake Tahoe
are closely adjacent to Lakeside Park. Mt.
Sinclair, 9500 feet, rises immediately from the eastern
boundary, whilst Monument Peak, Mounts Freel, Job,
and Job’s Sister, ranging from 10,000 to 11,200
feet above sea level are close by. Such near
proximity to these mountains gives unequalled opportunities
for tramping, riding and driving through and over
marvelous diversity of hill, valley, woodland, canyon
and mountain. Scores of miles of mountain trails
remain to be thoroughly explored and to the hunter
these highest mountains are the most alluring spots
of the whole Tahoe Region.

Yet while these mountains are close by Lakeside Park
is near enough to Fallen Leaf Lake, Glen Alpine Springs
and Desolation Valley to give fullest opportunity
for trips to these noted spots and their adjacent
attractions.

In addition it allows ready incursions into Nevada,
where the prehistoric footprints at Carson City, the
marvelous Steamboat Springs, and the world-famed mines
and Sutro Tunnel of Virginia City have been a lure
for many thousands during the past decades. It
is also near to Hope Valley and the peak on which
Fremont climbed when, in 1844, he discovered and first
described Lake Tahoe, and is the natural stopping-place
for those who wish to go over the road the Pathfinder
made, accompanied by Kit Carson, his guide and scout,
whose name is retained in Carson City, Carson Tree,
Carson Valley and Carson Canyon, all of which are
within a day’s easy ride.

PRIVATE RESIDENCES AT LAKESIDE PARK

To meet the ever-increasing demand for lots on which
to build summer homes on Lake Tahoe the Lakeside Park
Company has set aside a limited and desirable portion
of its large property on the southeasterly shore of
Lake Tahoe for cottages and log cabins, bungalows and
lodges, or acre tracts for chalets and villas.
Already quite a number have availed themselves of
this privilege and a colony of beautiful homes is
being established. Mr. and Mrs. Hill, with a keen
eye for the appropriate, and at the same time wishful
to show how a most perfect bungalow can be constructed
at a remarkably low price, have planned and erected
several most attractive “specimens” or
“models,” at prices ranging from $450
to $1000 and over. The fact that the tract is
so located in an actual, not merely a nominal,
wooded park, where pines, firs, tamaracks and other
Sierran trees abound, allow the proprietors to offer
fine logs for cabins and rustic-work in almost unlimited
quantities, and in the granite-ribbed mountains close
by is a quarry from which rock for foundations, chimneys
and open fireplaces may be taken without stint.
These are great advantages not to be ignored by those
who desire to build, and those who are first on the
scene naturally will be accorded the first choice both
of lots and material.

There is but one Lake Tahoe in America, and as the
men of California and Nevada cities find more time
for leisure it will not be many years before every
available spot will be purchased and summer residences
abound, just as is the case in the noted eastern lakes,
or those near to such cities as Minneapolis, etc.,
in the middle west.

Page 160

In setting aside this residential section at Lakeside
Park the owners have planned with far-sighted and
generous liberality. The Lake frontage is reserved
for general use of the hotel guests and cottage community,
so there will be no conflict regarding privileges of
boating, bathing, fishing, and “rest cure”
on the beach. Another wise provision is that
a generous portion of the amounts received from early
sales of lots is being devoted to general improvements
that are for mutual benefit; such as the extension
of roads, paths, trails and water-pipes, a substantial
breakwater for better protection of launches and boats,
larger dancing-pavilion or platform, automobile garage,
more dressing rooms for bathers, etc.

CHAPTER XXVI

GLENBROOK AND MARLETTE LAKE

In Chapter XVI the history of Glenbrook is given in
some detail. It is now, however, converted into
a pleasure resort especially popular with residents
of Nevada, and largely used by automobiles crossing
the Sierras and passing around Lake Tahoe.

The Inn, and its veranda overlooking the Lake, is
built with an eye to comfort and convenience.
Every need for pleasure and recreation is arranged
for. For those who enjoy privacy, cozy cottages
are provided, around which beautiful wild flowers
grow in wonderful profusion. The guests here
are especially favored in that the Inn has its own
ranch, dairy, poultry farm, fruit orchard and vegetable
garden. The table, therefore, is abundantly provided,
and everything is of known quality and brought in
fresh daily.

Glenbrook Inn makes no pretense to be a fashionable
resort. It especially invites those individuals
and families who wish to be free from the exhausting
“frivolities of fashion,” to come and enjoy
to the full Nature’s simple charms, regardless
of the city’s conventions as to dress and fashion.
Rest and recreation, amusement and recuperation are
the key-notes. Simplicity of life, abundance of
sleep, sufficiency of good food, tastefully served,
the chief hours of the day spent in the open air,
fishing, boating, swimming, trail-climbing, horseback-riding,
driving or automobiling,—­these bring health,
renewed energy and the joy of life.

The specific pleasures provided at Glenbrook are varied.
It is confessedly the best place for fishing on the
Lake. During the season the fishermen from all
the resorts at the south end of the Lake bring their
patrons over in this direction. The Inn has its
own fleet of gasoline launches and row boats, with
experienced men to handle them, and it supplies fishing-tackle
free, but those who wish to use the rod must bring
that with them. As is explained in the chapter
on fishing the trout of Lake Tahoe are taken both
by rod and “jerk-line” trolling.
Near Glenbrook, however, the rod can be used to greater
advantage than anywhere else, and catches of from one-half
to thirty pounds are of daily occurrence.

Page 161

While promiscuous fishing is not allowed now in the
famous Marlette Lake, eight miles away, the patrons
of Glenbrook Inn can always secure permits, without
any vexatious inquiries or delays, and there an abundance
of gamey trout of various species are caught.

The bathing facilities here are exceptionally good.
There is a long stretch of sandy beach, which extends
far out into the water, thus ensuring both warmth
and safety to children as well as adults.

In mountain and trail climbing Glenbrook has a field
all its own. The ride or drive to Marlette Lake
is a beautiful one, and the climb to Marlette Peak
not arduous. The chief mountain peaks easily reached
from Glenbrook are Dubliss, Edith, and Genoa Peaks,
which not only afford the same wonderful and entrancing
views of Lake Tahoe that one gains from Freel’s,
Mt. Tallac, Ellis and Watson’s Peaks, but
in addition lay before the entranced vision the wonderful
Carson Valley, with Mt. Davidson and other historic
peaks on the eastern horizon.

The drive along the shore by the famous Cave Rock
to Lakeside Park or Tallac is one that can be enjoyed
daily, and for those who like driving through and
over tree-clad hills, surrounded by majestic mountains,
the drive over the Carson road is enchanting.

[Illustration: Glennbrook Inn, on Nevada side
Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Sunset at Glenbrook, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: by Harold A. Parker. Carnelian
Bay, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Cottage overlooking Carnelian
Bay, Lake Tahoe]

It is at Glenbrook that the famous Shakspeare head
is to be seen graphically described by John Vance
Cheney, and quoted elsewhere (Chap. XVI).

TO MARLETTE LAKE FROM GLENBROOK

Marlette Lake and Peak are two of the attractive features
to visitors at Glenbrook Inn. The trip can be
made in a little over two hours, and as on the return
it is down hill nearly all the way, the return trip
takes a little less.

Leaving Glenbrook on the excellently kept macadamized
road over which Hank Monk used to drive stage from
Carson City, the eyes of the traveler are constantly
observing new and charming features in the mountain
landscape. The Lake with its peculiar attractions
is left entirely behind, with not another glimpse
of it until we stand on the flume at Lake Marlette.
Hence it is a complete change of scenery, for now
we are looking ahead to tree-clad summits where eagles
soar and the sky shines blue.

About two and a half miles out we come to Spooner’s,
once an active, bustling, roadside hotel, where in
the lumbering and mining days teams lined the road
four, six and eight deep. Now, nothing but a ramshackle
old building remains to tell of its former greatness.
Here we made a sharp turn to the left, leaving the
main road and taking the special Marlette Lake road.
We cross the grade of the abandoned railway—­the
rails, engines and equipment of which are now operating
between Truckee and Tahoe—­see in the distance
the tunnel through which the trains used to take the
lumber, and notice on the hill-sides the lines of
the old flumes which used to convey the water to the
reservoir on the other side of the tunnel, or bring
water and lumber ready to be sent on the further journey
down to Carson City.

Page 162

My driver was in a reflective mood, and as he pointed
these things out to me, made some sage and pertinent
remarks about the peculiar features of some industries
which required large expenditures to operate, all
of which were useless in a comparatively short time.
Mainly uphill the road continues through groves of
cottonwood, by logged-over mountain slopes and sheep-inhabited
meadows until the divide is reached. Here a very
rapid down hill speedily brings us to the south edge
of Marlette Lake. Skirting the southern end we
follow the road to the caretaker’s house, tie
our horses, and walk down to the dam, and then on
the flume or by its side to a point overlooking Lake
Tahoe, from which a marvelously expansive view is to
be obtained. We return now to Marlette and while
drinking a cup of coffee prepared for us by the hospitable
caretaker, glean the following facts in regard to
the history and uses of Marlette Lake.

Marlette is an artificial lake, fifteen hundred feet
above the level of Lake Tahoe, and about three miles
from its easterly shore. Its waters are conveyed
by tunnel, flume, etc., over the mountains, the
Washoe Valley and up the mountain again to Virginia
City. Originally the only supply of water available
for Virginia City was from a few springs and mining
tunnels. This supply soon became insufficient
and many tunnels were run into hills both north and
south from Virginia for the express purpose of tapping
water. These soon failed and it became necessary
to look for a permanent supply to the main range of
the Sierra Nevada twenty-five or more miles away.
Accordingly the Virginia and Gold Hill Water Company
called upon Mr. Hermann Schussler, the engineer under
whose supervision the Spring Valley Water Works of
San Francisco were constructed. After a careful
survey of the ground he found water at Hobart Creek,
in the mountains on the east side of Lake Tahoe, and
in the spring of 1872, received orders to go ahead
and install a water system. He ordered pipe made
to fit every portion of the route. It had to
pass across the deep depression of Washoe Valley with
water at a perpendicular pressure of 1720 feet, equivalent
to 800 pounds to the square inch.

The first operations were so successful that as needs
grew the supply flume was extended eight and a half
miles to Marlette Lake, thus making the total distance
to Virginia City thirty-one and a half miles.
This Lake was named after S.H. Marlette, formerly
Surveyor General of Nevada, who was associated with
W.S. Hobart, of San Francisco, the owner of the
land and one of the original projectors of the Water
Company. The site was a natural basin, the dam
of which had been broken down or eroded centuries
ago. A dam was built in 1875, and later raised
eleven feet higher so as to afford more storage capacity.
The area of the lake is now about 600 acres (before
the heightening of the dam it was 300 acres), and
its storage capacity is about two billion gallons.

Page 163

When the supply was enlarged a second pipe was laid
alongside the first with an equal capacity, each being
able to convey 2,200,000 gallons every twenty-four
hours. A third pipe was installed later.
The second and third pipes were laid by the late Captain
J.B. Overton, who was Superintendent of the Company
for over thirty-two years. Captain Overton also
extended the flume lines, constructed the tunnel through
the mountain ridge, built the Marlette Lake dam and
made many other improvements and extensions.

On leaving Marlette Lake through an opening at the
lower portion of the dam the water is conducted five
miles in a covered flume and thence through a tunnel
four thousand feet long through the summit of the
dividing ridge or rim of the Tahoe basin to its easterly
side. From this point it is again conducted through
covered flumes, together with water from Hobart Creek
and other streams, to the intake of the pipes across
Washoe Valley. These pipes are three in number,
two twelve inch and one ten inch. The difference
in elevation between the inlet and discharge from
No. 1 and No. 2 pipes is 465 feet. The difference
in elevation between the inlet and discharge of No.
3 pipe is 565 feet. The pipes are laid across
Washoe Valley in the form of inverted syphons.
At the lowest point in the valley, the perpendicular
pressure is 1720 feet on No. 1 and No. 2 pipes and
1820 feet on No. 3 pipe. The pipe lines go up
and down nine canyons in their course across the Valley.
Each line is something over seven miles in length.
The pressure gauges at Lake View, the point of heaviest
pressure, register 820 lbs. on No. 1 and No. 2 pipes
when filled, and 910 lbs. on No. 3 pipe when filled.

When this work was first contemplated many hydraulic
engineers condemned the project as impossible, as
never before had water been carried so far under such
pressure. But the fact that the first pipes laid
by Engineer Schussler are still in active use demonstrates
the scientific and practical knowledge and skill with
which he attacked the problem.

It is an interesting fact to note that, prior to the
building of the dam, part of the water was used for
“fluming” lumber and wood to Lake View,
and also for a short period of time after the dam was
constructed. But for the past twenty years this
practice has been discontinued, the water being solely
for the supply of Virginia City. The total cost
of the work was about $3,500,000. The Company
is now under the immediate and personal supervision
of James M. Leonard. The flumes and pipe-lines
have recently been rebuilt and repaired where necessary
so that the entire system is in excellent condition
and a high state of efficiency.

DUBLISS, EDITH AND GENOA PEAKS

Page 164

The ride to these three peaks can easily be made in
a day, and though they are all in reasonably close
proximity, there are differences enough in their respective
outlooks to make a visit to each of them enjoyable
and profitable. With a good saddle-horse from
the Glenbrook stables, a guide, and a lunch tied to
the saddle, one may start out confident that a most
delightful scenic trip is before him. The first
hour’s riding is over the rocky and tree-clad
slopes, far wilder and more rugged than one would
imagine, rudely bordering the Lake southwards.
Then turning east, hills and vales, flowery meads and
dainty native nurseries of pines, firs and hemlocks
enchant the eye. Reaching the summit of any one
of the peaks, a wide expanse of Lake is offered, extending
to the surrounding mountains north, south and west,
but on Genoa Peak an additional charm is found in the
close proximity of the Nevada Valley, and mountains
to the eastward. The contrast between the richly
clad Sierras and the apparently unclothed, volcanic
Nevada mountains is remarkable.

CHAPTER XXVII

CARNELIAN BAY AND TAHOE COUNTRY CLUB

On making the circuit of the Lake the last stopping-place
on the trip starting south, or the first when starting
north and east, is Carnelian Bay. This is a new
settlement rapidly coming into prominence because
of the number of cottages and bungalows erected by
their owners on their own lots. From early until
late in the seasons of 1913 and 1914 the sounds of
the saw and hammer were seldom still. The result
is the growth of quite a summer settlement. Easy
of access, either by train and steamer from Truckee,
or by direct wagon or auto road via Truckee or the
new boulevard from the south end of the Lake, Carnelian
Bay attracts the real home-seeker. It has been
the first section to fully realize what John LeConte
has so ably set forth in another chapter on Tahoe
as a Summer Residence. With the completion of
the state highway around Lake Tahoe and the projected
automobile route from Reno and Carson City, Carnelian
Bay will be adjacent to the main arteries of travel.
The proposed link of the Lincoln Highway around the
north shore of the Lake will put Carnelian Bay directly
on the great international auto road.

The beauties of Lake Tahoe can hardly be magnified
to the people of the West. Those who have once
viewed its wonders and its magnificence, who have
for a season breathed its invigorating and stimulating
atmosphere, who have caught the wily trout which abound
in its waters, who have sailed, or rowed, or motor-boated
over its indigo-blue surface, carry in memory pictures
in comparison with which any word-picture would be
inadequate and incomplete.

Hence the projectors of Carnelian Bay struck a popular
note when, out of their 81-acre tract, they put on
sale convenient-sized lots. Of these 75 were
purchased almost immediately, and by 1914 there were
over 45 homes, large and small, already erected.
Every lot was sold to a purchaser who expressed his
definite intention of speedily erecting a house, cottage
or bungalow for his own use. Hence the community
is of a selected class into which one may come with
confidence and assurance of congenial associations.

Page 165

While there is no hotel at present there are several
cottages and bungalows especially erected for rent
to transient guests, and a good store, together with
its close proximity to Tahoe City and Tahoe Tavern,
render a summer vacation here one of comfort, pleasure
and perfect enjoyment.

PROJECTED TAHOE COUNTRY CLUB AT CARNELIAN

The increasing need exists among those who are familiar
with the beauties and advantages of Lake Tahoe as
a summer residence resort for accommodations for families
or transients where the usual comforts of home may
be obtained at a cost not prohibitive to the family
of ordinary means. Last year no less than 80,000
persons visited Lake Tahoe. It is safe to say
that this number will increase annually, particularly
with added accommodations at the Lake and with better
facilities for automobile travel. The proximity
of Lake Tahoe to the coast cities and the cities of
the Sierras and the Middle West makes it at once attractive
to the business man who desires to spend his summer
vacation where the family is located for the summer
months.

The Tahoe Country Club is designed to meet the need.
The incorporators have taken over in fee simple a
beautiful tract embracing about 1500 feet of the beach
at Carnelian Bay, California, perhaps the most attractive
site on Lake Tahoe. It commands a view of the
entire length of the Lake, looking toward the south,
and embracing a magnificent panoramic view of the
mountains beyond. This site contains approximately
nine acres, and includes a natural inland harbor, making
off from a protected bay. The beach is shallow,
of clean sand, sloping down from easy terraces beautified
by shade trees and lawns.

The plan of organization of the Tahoe Country Club
is cooperative. Its benefits are to be shared
by its members, their families, and such of their
friends as they may invite to be guests of the club.
The properties taken over by the incorporation, including
the 1500 feet of beach front, harbor, wharf, and a
system of water works already installed, together
with the perpetual title to the water rights, is conservatively
appraised at $30,000. This is held in fee, free
from incumbrance.

The charter—­or organizing—­members
of the club will be the investors in the bonds issued
and secured on the real estate taken over by the incorporation.
This bond issue, the redemption of which will be guaranteed
by first mortgage on the properties, will be for $20,000.
These will be in denominations of $100 each, bearing
six per cent. interest after two years from June 1,
1914, and will be redeemable, at the option of the
mortgagor, at any regular annual interest period on
or after five years from the date of issue. They
will be payable in fifteen years.

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Each original bond purchaser becomes a charter life
member of the club, entitled, without the payment
of annual dues or other assessments, to the privileges
and benefits offered. These, briefly, aside from
the natural advantages of location, scenery, etc.,
are an assured congenial environment, known associations
(not always a possibility in a public summer hotel),
the absence of every possible unpleasant influence,
opportunities for fishing, boating, tennis, golf and
other outdoor sports, and first-class accommodations
at a cost far below that charged at regular high-class
summer hotels.

The proceeds of the bond issue are to be devoted to
the erection of the first unit of the club’s
buildings, consisting of the club house proper, and
probably six four-room cottages adjacent. Thus
the value of the real estate securing the bonds will
at once be enhanced virtually to the full extent of
the investment made by the charter members.

With the initial buildings assured and in process
of erection, the membership and patronage of the club
will be augmented by extending the privileges of the
organization to non-investors, who will be enrolled
upon payment of a fixed membership charge. These
associate members, like the charter members, will
enjoy the privileges offered for themselves and their
families and for such of their friends as they may
desire to recommend, and for whom limited-period guest-cards
are requested.

With a membership so broadly scattered as will be
the membership of this club, community control of
its affairs would be impracticable, if not impossible.
It has been decided, therefore, to vest the supervisory
control of the club in a self-perpetuating advisory
board, composed of many of the most prominent citizens
of Nevada and California.

The plan proposed is a feasible and practicable one,
and one that ought to appeal to nature lovers who
desire just such opportunities as it will afford on
Lake Tahoe. The president of the company and the
directing genius who has made Carnelian Bay possible
is L.P. Delano, of Reno, Nevada, to whom all
requests for further particulars regarding the Tahoe
Country Club, or of Carnelian Bay should be addressed.

CHAPTER XXVIII

FISHING IN THE LAKES OF THE TAHOE REGION

Fishing in Lake Tahoe, and the other lakes of the
region is a pleasure and a recreation as well as an
art and a science. There are laymen, tyros, neophytes,
proficients and artists. The real fraternity has
passes, catchwords, grips and signals to which outsiders
seek to “catch on” in vain.

The chief native trout of Lake Tahoe is locally known
as the “cut-throat,” because of a brilliant
dash of red on either side of the throat. The
name, however, gives no hint of the exquisite beauty
of the markings of the fish, the skill required and
excitement developed in catching it, and the dainty
deliciousness of its flesh when properly cooked.

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Owing to the wonderful adaptability of Lake Tahoe,
and the lakes and brooks of the surrounding region,
to fish life, several other well-known varieties have
been introduced, all of which have thrived abundantly
and now afford opportunity for the skill of the fisherman
and delight the palate of the connoisseur. These
are the Mackinac, rainbow, eastern brook, and Loch
Levin. There is also found a beautiful and dainty
silver trout, along the shore where the cold waters
of the various brooks or creeks flow into Lake Tahoe
(and also in some of the smaller lakes), that is much
prized. Some fishermen claim that it is the “prettiest,
gamiest, sweetest and choicest” fish of the
Lake, and it has been caught weighing as high as twelve
pounds.

Another fish, native to Lake Tahoe, is found in vast
numbers by the Indians in the fall. The ordinary
summer visitor to Tahoe seldom sees or hears of these,
as they rarely bite until the summer season is over,
say in October. This is a white fish, varying
in size from half a pound to four pounds in weight,
with finely flavored flesh. It is found in shallow
water and near the mouths of the creeks, and the Indians
have a way of “snagging” them in.
Building a kind of half platform and half stone screen
over the pools where they abound, the Indians take
a long wire, the end of which they have sharpened and
bent to form a rude hook. Then, without bait,
or any attempt at sport, they lower the hook and as
rapidly as the fish appear, “snag” them
out, literally by the hundreds. Most of these
are salted down for winter use. This is supposed
to be a native, and the traditions of the Indians
confirm the supposition.

The largest native Tahoe trout caught, of which there
is any authentic record, was captured not far from
Glenbrook and weighed 35 pounds, and, strange to say,
its capturer was an amateur. This, the boatmen
tell me, is generally the case—­the amateurs
almost invariably bringing in the largest fish.
Although there are rumors of fish having been caught
weighing as high as 45 pounds it is impossible to trace
these down to any accurate and reliable source, hence,
until there is positive assurance to the contrary
it may be regarded that this catch is the largest
on record.

The common Tahoe method of “trolling”
for trout is different from the eastern method.
It is the result of years of experience and is practically
as follows: A copper line, 100 to 200 feet long,
which sinks of its own weight, on which a large copper
spoon is placed above the hook, which is baited with
a minnow and angle-worm, is used. Thrown into
the water the line is gently pulled forward by the
angler, then allowed to sink back. He takes care,
however, always to keep it taut. This makes the
spoon revolve and attracts the fish. The moment
the angler feels a strike he gives his line a quick
jerk and proceeds to pull in, landing the fish with
the net. The local term for this method of fishing
is “jerk-line.”

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The copper line used is generally a 6 oz. for 100
feet, and the length is adjusted to the places in
which the fisherman wishes to operate.

Let us, for a short time, watch the would-be angler.
Women are often far more eager than men. The
hotels of Tahoe keep their own fishing-boats.
The larger ones have a fleet of twenty or more, and
in the season this is found insufficient for the number
who wish to try their hand and prove their luck.
Often great rivalry exists not only in securing the
boatmen who have had extra good luck or displayed
extraordinary skill, but also between the guests as
to the extent of their various “catches.”
When a boatman has taken his “fare” into
regions that have proven successful, and does this
with frequency, it is natural that those who wish
to run up a large score should try hard to secure
him. This adds to the fun—­especially
to the onlookers.

The boat is all ready; the angler takes his (or her)
seat in the cushioned stern, feet resting upon a double
carpet—­this is fishing de luxe.
The oarsman pushes off and quietly rows away from the
pier out into deep water, which, at Tahoe varies from
75 feet to the unknown depths of 1500 feet or more.
The color of the water suggests even to the tyro the
depth, and as soon as the “Tahoe blue”
is reached the boatman takes his large hand-reel,
unfastens the hook, baits it with minnow and worm
and then hands it to the angler, with instructions
to allow it to unreel when thrown out on the port side
at the stern.

At the same time he prepares a second hook from a
second reel which he throws out at the starboard side.
At the end of each copper line a few yards of fish-cord
are attached in which a loop is adjusted for the fingers.
This holds the line secure while the backward and forward
pulls are being made, and affords a good hold for the
hook-impaling “jerk” when a strike is
felt. While the “angler” pulls on
his line the boatman slowly rows along, and holding
his line on the fingers of his “starboard”
hand, he secures the proper motion as he rows.

Then, pulling over the ledges or ridges between shallow
and deeper, or deeper and deep water, he exercises
all his skill and acquired knowledge and experience
to enable his “fare” to make a good catch.
As soon as a strike is felt and duly hooked he sees
that the line is drawn in steadily so as not to afford
the fish a chance to rid itself of the hook, and,
as soon as it appears, he drops his oar, seizes the
net, and lands the catch to the great delight of his
less-experienced fare.

Many are the tales that a privileged listener may
hear around the fisherman’s night-haunts, telling
of the antics of their many and various fares, when
a strike has been made. Some become so excited
that they tangle up their lines, and one boatman assures
me that, on one occasion a lady was so “rattled”
that she finally wrapped her line in such a fashion
around both elbows that she sat helpless and he had
to come to her rescue and release her.

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On another occasion a pair of “newly-weds”
went out angling. When “hubby” caught
a fish, the pair celebrated the catch by enthusiastically
kissing, totally regardless of the surprise or envy
that might be excited in the bosom of the poor boatman,
and when “wifie” caught a fish the same
procedure was repeated. “Of course,”
said the boatman, in telling me the story, “that
pair caught more fish than any one I had had for a
month, simply to taunt me with their carryings on.”

In the height of the season the guests become the
most enthusiastic fishermen of all. They take
a growing pride in their increasing scores and the
fishing then resolves itself into an earnest, almost
deadly, tournament in which each determines to outscore
the others. This is what the boatmen enjoy—­though
it often means longer hours and more severe rowing—­for
it is far easier to work (so they say) for a “fare”
who is really interested than for one who is halfhearted
and indifferent.

As these rivals’ boats pass each other they
call out in triumph their rising luck, or listen gloweringly
to the recital of others’ good fortune, when
they are compelled to silence because of their own
failure.

Sometimes the boatmen find these rivalries rather
embarrassing, for the excitement and nervousness of
their “fares” become communicated to them.
Then, perhaps, they lose a promising strike, or, in
their hurry, fail to land the fish when it appears.
Scolding and recriminations are not uncommon on such
occasions, and thus is the gayety of nations added
to.

What is it that really constitutes “fisherman’s
luck”? Who can tell? The theories
of Tahoe fishermen are as many as there are men.
Some think one thing, some another. One will
talk learnedly of the phases of the moon, another
of the effect of warmer or colder weather upon the
“bugs” upon which the fish feed.

Sometimes one will “jerk” half a day and
never get a strike; other days the boat will scarcely
have left the wharf before one pulls the fish in almost
as fast as hooks can be baited and thrown out.
When fishing is slow an amateur soon becomes tired
out. The monotonous pull on the line soon makes
the arm weary, and destroys all enthusiasm. But
let the strikes begin and weariness disappears.
Some days the fish will bite for an hour, say from
eleven to twelve, and then quit and not give another
strike all day. The very next day, in the same
spot, one cannot get a bite until afternoon.

One of my fishermen friends once related the following:
“Again and again I have heard old and experienced
fishermen say that no fish can be caught in a thunder-storm.
Yet in July 1913 four boats were towed by a launch
out to the Nevada side, near to Glenbrook. It
appeared stormy before the party left, but they refused
to be daunted or discouraged by the doleful prognostications
of the “know-it-alls.” Before long
the lightning began, the clouds hung heavy, and while
they fished they were treated to alternate doses of

Page 170

thunder, lightning, cloud, sunshine, rain and hail.
In less than an hour every member of the party—­and
there were several ladies—­were soaked and
drenched to the skin, but all were happy. For,
contrary to the assertions of the experts, every angler
was having glorious success. Each boat secured
its full quota, 40 fish to each, and the catch averaged
70 pounds to a boat, scarcely a fish being pulled
out that did not weigh over a pound. Talk about
luck; these people surely had it.”

Once again; I was out one day with Boat No. 14 (each
boat has its own number), and the boatman told me
the following story. I know him well and his
truthfulness is beyond question. He had with him
two well-known San Francisco gentlemen, whom I will
name respectively, Rosenbaum and Rosenblatt.
They were out for the day. For hours they “jerked”
without success. At last one turned to the other
and said: “Rosie, I’ve got a hunch
that our luck’s going to change. I’m
going to count twenty and before I’m through
we’ll each have a fish.” Slowly he
began to count, one,—­two,—­three.
Just as he counted fourteen, both men felt a strike,
gave the fateful jerk, and pulled in a large fish,
and from that moment their luck changed.

This is not the whole of the story, however.
Some days later the same boatman was out on the Nevada
side with two gentlemen, who could not get a bite.
Merely to while away the time the boatman told the
foregoing facts. To his surprise and somewhat
to his disgust at his own indiscretion in telling
the story, one of the gentlemen began to count, and,
believe it or not, he assures me that at the fateful
fourteen, he gained a first-class strike, and continued
to have success throughout the afternoon.

As he left the boat he turned to his companion and
said: “Well, that fourteen’s proved
a lucky number. I’m going right over to
the roulette wheel to see what luck it will give me
over there.”

My boatman friend added that as he heard nothing of
any great winnings at the wheel that night, and Mr.
N. looked rather quiet and sober the next day, he
is afraid the luck did not last. Needless to say
that except to me, and then only in my capacity as
a writer, the story has never been told.

Now, while the jerk-line method brings much joy to
the heart of the successful and lucky amateur, the
genuine disciple of Izaak Walton scorns this unsportsman-like
method. He comes earlier in the season, April,
May, or June, or later, in September, and brings his
rod and line, when the fish keep nearer to the shore
in the pot-holes and rocky formations, and then angles
with the fly. It is only at these times, however,
that he is at all likely to have any success, as the
Tahoe trout does not generally rise to the fly.

Yet, strange to say, in all the smaller trout-stocked
lakes of the region, Fallen Leaf, Cascade, Heather,
Lily, Susie, Lucile, Grass, LeConte, Rock Bound, the
Velmas, Angora, Echo, Tamarack, Lake of the Woods,
Rainbow, Pit, Gilmore, Kalmia, Fontinalis, Eagle, Granite,
and as many more, the trout are invariably caught
with the fly, though the species most sought after
is not the native Tahoe trout, but the eastern brook.
This is essentially fish for the genuine angler, and
many are the tales—­true and otherwise—­told
of the sport the capture of this fish has afforded
in the region.

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There are several interesting peculiarities about
the fish of Lake Tahoe and its region that it is well
to note. In the large lake (Tahoe) the native
cutthroat grows to much the largest size—­the
35-lb. one referred to elsewhere being proof of its
great growth.

The next in size is the Mackinac which is often caught
as large as 10 lb., and now and again up to 15 lb.

In Fallen Leaf Lake, which was stocked with Mackinac
some years ago, the native trout has become comparatively
scarce, the former seemingly having driven it out,
though in Lake Tahoe there is no such result.
In Fallen Leaf not more than one or two in ten will
be cutthroats, while Mackinacs abound, up to 6 lbs.
and 7 lbs. in weight. Occasionally much larger
fish are seen, though they are seldom brought to net.
Not long ago a Loch Levin, weighing 12 lbs., was caught
here.

While the catch of fish in the smaller lakes of the
region is exceedingly large the fish themselves are
smaller, the opportunities for hiding and fattening
and growing older being comparatively greater in the
larger body of water.

During the height of the season when there are a great
many boats out it is common to hire a launch which
will tow from four to a dozen boats over towards Emerald
Bay on the California side, or towards Glenbrook on
the Nevada side, where the fishing grounds are known
to be of the best. The boatmen especially enjoy
these days out—­although the “fares”
may not always suspect it—­as it gives them
a change from their ordinary routine and table fare.
They enjoy trout as well as do the visitors, and of
course, they are all expert cooks as well as boatmen.
When noon-time comes, if there has been any luck, a
camp-fire is built and the fish are fried, or broiled
on the coals, or by experts, made into an excellent
chowder. And never does one enjoy a fish dinner
so much as under these circumstances. The exercise,
the fresh air, the motion over the water, the deliciousness
and delicate flavor of the fish, all conspire to tempt
the most capricious appetite.

Once in a while a black bass will be caught, though
it is not believed that this is a native fish.
It does not seem to thrive in Tahoe though the boatmen
tell me they occasionally see a few, especially off
the docks at Tallac and other points at the south
end of the Lake.

Now and again small bull-heads will be seen, and a
very small rock-bass. But these never bite on
hook and line, and are seldom found more than two
or three inches long.

On the other hand big schools of suckers and chubs
are seen. The former naturally are scorned by
all true fishermen as they are regarded as hogs, or
scavengers, and are thrown back whenever caught, or
are taken and fed to the gulls or pelicans. The
chubs occasionally are hooked and are from half a
pound to a pound and a half in size. As a rule
these are thrown back, though they make good eating
to those who do not object to their excess of bones.

Page 172

One of the most interesting of sights is to see one
of the schools of minnows that fairly abound in Lake
Tahoe. In the clear and pellucid water one can
clearly see them swim along. As they pass a rocky
place a trout will dart out and catch his prey.
A flutter at once passes through the whole school.
Yet, strange to say, the trout will sometimes swim
around such a body and either stupify them with fear,
or hypnotize them into forgetfulness of their presence,
for they will float quietly in the center of the mass,
catching the minnows one by one as they need them
without exciting the least fear or attention.
The minnows generally remain in fairly shallow water,
and keep so closely together that a line of demarcation
is made between where they are and outside, as if
it had been cut with a knife along a straight edge,
and in some mysterious way the fish dare not cross
it, though it constantly moves along with their movements.

It will be obvious that necessarily there is much
market-fishing in Lake Tahoe and its surrounding lakes.
Indeed there are large numbers of fishermen—­Indians
and whites—­who supply the various hotels
both of the Lake region and in San Francisco, Oakland,
Sacramento and adjacent cities, and even as far as
Denver and Salt Lake City, eastwards, and Los Angeles
to the south. These fishermen are very persistent
in their work, keeping at it from early morning until
late at night, though their catches are supposed to
be officially regulated.

The amount of fish caught and shipped by these market-fishermen
is remarkable. In 1911 the report shows that
over 22,000 pounds were sent out by express, over
half of which were sent from Tallac alone. And
this does not take any account of the amount caught
and eaten by private residents around the Lake, by
the visitors or by the hotels.

The fish that are to be shipped are not, as one might
naturally suppose, packed in ice. Experience
has demonstrated a better way which is now universally
followed. At Tallac the hotel has a large place
devoted to this process, which is practically as follows:
Each boatman has a fish-box, numbered to correspond
with his boat. These are kept in the water during
the season, and if the catch of his “fare”
for one day is not sufficient for a shipment it is
placed in the box. When a sufficient number is
on hand, they are taken out by the boatman, carefully
cleaned and hung up to dry in fly-proof, open-air cages.
When perfectly dry inside and out they are packed in
sweet-smelling Tallac Meadow hay, and shipped by express.

Many visitors cannot understand why there are no fish
in some of the lakes that, to their eyes, seem just
as well adapted for fish as others that possess an
abundance. Even old timers do not all know the
reason. If a lake is shallow, when the deep snow
falls it soon sinks below the surface in a heavy mushy
mass that presses down upon the fish and prevents
their breathing. Then, if a severe frost follows

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and the mass freezes the ice squeezes the fish to
the bottom. Over three years ago Watson took
fish to Bessie Lake, putting in as many as 6000 fry
of Lake Tahoe and other species. The next year,
and the following years they were all right, having
grown to eight or nine inches in length. Then
came a severe winter and in the spring there was not
a living fish left. The bottom was strewn with
them, many of them with broken backs.

[Illustration: A gnarled monarch of the High
Sierras, an aged Juniper, near Lake Tahoe]

CHAPTER XXIX

HUNTING AT LAKE TAHOE

In the chapter on the Birds and Animals of the Tahoe
Region I have written of the game to be found.
There are few places left in the Sierras where such
good deer- and bear-hunting can be found as near Tahoe.
During the dense snow-falls the deer descend the western
slopes, approaching nearer and nearer to the settlements
of the upper foothills, and there they do fairly well
until the snow begins to recede in the spring.
They keep as near to the snow line as possible, and
are then as tame and gentle almost as sheep. When
the season opens, however, they soon flee to certain
secret recesses and hidden lairs known to none but
the old and experienced guides of the region.
There are so many of these wooded retreats, however,
and the Tahoe area is so vast, that it is seldom an
expert goes out for deer (or bear) that he fails.
Hence the sportsman is always assured of “something
worth while.”

As for bear I have told elsewhere of recent hunts
on Mt. Freel from Tallac, and the two bears killed
there in 1913, and of Carl Flugge’s experiences.
With Tallac hunters, Flugge, Bob Watson or any other
experienced man, one can scarcely fail to have exciting
and successful times.

CHAPTER XXX

THE FLOWERS OF THE TAHOE REGION

It would be impossible in the space of a brief chapter
to present even a list of all the flowers found and
recorded in the Tahoe Region. Suffice it to say
that 1300 different species already have been listed.
This chapter will merely call attention to the most
prominent, or, on the other hand, the rarer and special
flowering plants that the visitor should eagerly search
for.

As fast as the snow retires from the sun-kissed slopes
the flowers begin to come out. Indeed in April,
were one at Tahoe, he could make a daily pilgrimage
to the receding snow-line and there enjoy new revelations
of dainty beauty each morning. For the flowers,
as the snow-coating becomes thinner, respond to the
“call of the sun”, and thrust up their
spears out of the softened and moistened earth, so
that when the last touch of snow is gone they are often
already in bud ready to burst forth into flower at
the first kiss of sunshine.

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In May they come trooping along in all their pristine
glory, God’s thoughts cast upon the mold of
earth, so that even the men and women of downcast
eyes and souls may know the ever-fresh, ever-present
love of God.

Most interesting of all is the snow-plant (sarcodes
san-guinea Torrey). The name is unfortunate.
The plant doesn’t look like snow, nor does it
grow on or in the snow. It simply follows the
snow line, as so many of the Sierran plants do, and
as the snow melts and leaves the valley, one must
climb to find it. It is of a rich red color,
which glows in the sunlight like a living thing.
It has no leaves but is supplied with over-lapping
scale-like bracts of a warm flesh-tint. At the
lower part of the flower these are rigid and closely
adherent to the stem, but higher up they become looser
and curl gracefully about among the vivid red bells.
In the spring of 1914 they were wonderfully plentiful
at the Tavern and all around the Lake. I literally
saw hundreds of them.

Next in interest comes the heather, both red and white.
In Desolation Valley, as well as around most of the
Sierran lakes of the Tahoe Region, beds of heather
are found that have won enthusiastic Scotchmen to
declare that Tahoe heather beats that of Scotland.
The red heather is the more abundant, and its rich
deep green leaves and crown of glowing red makes it
to be desired, but the white heather is a flower fit
for the delicate corsage bouquet of a queen, or the
lapel of the noblest of men. Dainty and exquisite,
perfect in shape and color its tiny white bell is
par-excellence the emblem of passionate purity.

Blue gentians (Gentina calycosa, Griseb) abound,
their deep blue blossoms rivaling the pure blue of
our Sierran skies. These often come late in the
season and cheer the hearts of those who come upon
them with “a glad sweet surprise”.
There are also white gentians found aplenty.

The water lilies of the Tahoe Region are strikingly
beautiful. In many of the Sierran lakes conditions
seem to exist which make them flourish and they are
found in plentiful quantities.

Wild marigolds abound in large patches, even on the
mountain heights, where there is plenty of moisture
and sunshine, and a species of marguerite, or mountain
daisy, is not uncommon. The Indian paint-brush
is found everywhere and is in full bloom in deepest
red in September. Wild sunflowers also abound
except where the sheep have been. Then not a
sign of once vast patches can be found. They are
eaten clear to the ground.

The mullein attains especial dignity in this mountain
region. Stately and proud it rises above the
lesser though more beautiful flowers of the wild.
It generally dies down in September, though an occasional
flowering stalk may be seen as late as October.

Another very common but ever-welcome plant, for its
pungent and pleasing odor, is the pennyroyal.
It abounds throughout the whole region and its hardiness
keeps it flowering until late in the fall.

Page 175

Beautiful and delicate at all times wherever seen,
the wild snowdrop is especially welcome in the Tahoe
Region, where, amid soaring pines and firs, it timidly
though faithfully blooms and cheers the eye with its
rare purity.

Now and again one will find the beautiful California
fuchsia (zauschneria Californica, Presl.) its
delicate beauty delighting the eye and suggesting
some of the rare orchids of a pale yellow tint.

The Sierra primrose (Primula Suffrutescens)
is often found near to the snow-line. Its tufts
of evergreen leaves seem to revel in the cold water
of the melting snow and the exquisite rose-tints of
the flowers are enhanced by the pure white of what
snow is left to help bring them into being.

It is natural that, in a region so abounding in water,
ferns of many kinds should also abound. The common
brake flourishes on the eastern slopes, but I have
never found the maiden hair. On the western slopes
it is abundant, but rarely if ever found on the easterly
exposures.

Most striking and attractive among the shrubs are
the mountain ash, the mountain mahogany (cereocarpus
parvifolius, Nutt.) the California laurel (umbellularia
Californica, Nutt.) and the California holly,
or toyon. The rich berries, the green leaves,
the exquisite and dainty flowers, the delicious and
stimulating odors all combine to make these most welcome
in every Sierran landscape, no matter at what season
they appear.

While in the foregoing notes on the flowers of the
Tahoe region I have hastily gone over the ground,
one particular mountain to the north of Tahoe has
been so thoroughly and scientifically studied that
it seems appropriate to call more particular attention
to it in order that botanists may realize how rich
the region is in rare treasures. For what follows
I am indebted to the various writings of Professor
P. Beveridge Kennedy, long time professor at the University
of Nevada, but recently elected to the faculty of
the University of California.

One could almost write a “Botany” of Mt.
Rose alone, so interesting are the floral specimens
found there. This mountain stands unique in the
Lake Tahoe region in that it is an intermediate between
the high mountains of the Sierra Nevada and those
of the interior of the Great Basin. Its flora
are undoubtedly influenced by the dry atmospheric
conditions that exist on the eastern side. A mere
suggestion only can be given here of the full enjoyment
afforded by a careful study of what it offers.

At from 10,000 feet up the following new species have
been found. Eriogonum rhodanthum, a perennial
which forms dense mats on hard rocky ground.
The caudex is made up of many strands twisted together
like rope, its numerous branches terminated by clusters
of very small, new and old leaves, with flower clusters.
Another similar species is the E. rosensis.

An interesting rock-cress is found in the Arabis
Depauperata, which here shows the results of its
fierce struggles for existence. It bears minute
purple flowers.

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Flowering in the middle of August, but past flowering
at the end of September the Gilia montana is
found, with its numerous white and pink leaves.

Nearby is the Phlox dejecta in large quantities,
resembling a desert moss, and covering the rocks with
its tinted carpet.

An Indian paint-brush with a flower in an oblong cream-colored
spike, with purple blotches, was named Castilleia
inconspicua, possibly because it is so much less
conspicuous and alluring to the eye than its well-known
and striking brother of the California fields, C.
parviflora. This species has been of great
interest to botanists, as when first observed it was
placed in the genus Orthocarpus. Professor
Kennedy thinks it is undoubtedly a connecting link
between the two genera. It has been found only
on Mount Rose, where it is common at between 9000
and 10,000 feet elevation. It reaches, however,
to the summit, though it is more sparingly found there.

Professor Kennedy also describes Hulsea Caespitosa,
or Alpine dandelion, a densely pubescent plant, emitting
a disagreeable odor, whose large yellow flowers surprise
one when seen glowing apparently out of the masses
of loose volcanic rock. It is soon found, however,
that they have roots deep down in good soil beneath.
Another new species, Chrysothamnus Monocephala,
or Alpine rabbit-brush, is a very low, shrubby plant,
with insignificant pale yellow flowers.

A beautiful little plant, well adapted to rockeries
and suited for cultivation, is Polemonium Montrosense.
Under good conditions it grows excellently. It
was found on the summit of Mt. Rose, and at lower
elevations.

Clusters of the Alpine Monkey-flower (Mimulus Implexus,
Greene), are also found on Mt. Rose, as well
as on other Tahoe mountain summits. The rich
yellow flowers bloom profusely, though their bed is
often a moraine of wet rocks over which a turbulent
cold stream has recently subsided.

Slightly below the summit the little elephant’s-head
have been found (Elephantella attolens(Gray)
Heller). Rydberg in his Flora of Montana
showed that these were not properly the true pendicularis,
as they had hitherto been regarded, hence the new name.
The corolla strikingly resembles the head of an elephant,
the beak of the galea forming the trunk, the lateral
lobes of the lips the ears, and the stigma the finger-like
appendage of the trunk.

In August, growing below the perpetual snow banks
at about 10,000 feet elevation that supply an abundance
of moisture, one will often find clumps of Rhodiola
Integrifolia, which attract the eye with their
deep reddish-purple flowers and fruits. The leaves
also have a purple tinge.

Nearby clambering over the granite bowlders the Alpine
heath, Cassiope Mertensianae, with its multitude
of rose-tinted flower bells, sometimes is found, though
not in the profusion it displays in Desolation Valley.

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Another very interesting plant is the Alpine currant
(Ribes Inebrians, Lindl.) which between the
years 1832 and 1907 has received no less than eight
different names accorded by European and American
botanists. It is a remarkable shrub, in that it
occurs higher on the mountain than any other form
of vegetation except lichens. The roots penetrate
deeply into the crevices of the lava rocks, enabling
it to withstand the fierce winds. The flowers,
which appear in August, are white, shading to pink,
and the red berries, which are not especially palatable
on account of their insipid taste and numerous seeds,
are abundant in September. Another new Mt.
Rose ribes has been named Churchii in
honor of Professor J.E. Church, Jr., whose original
work at the Mt. Rose Observatory is described
in the chapter devoted to that purpose.

Growing at elevations of from 6000 to 10,000 feet,
displaying a profusion of white flowers sometimes
delicately tinged with light purple is the Phlox
Douglasii, Hook. It is low but with loose,
much-branched prostrate stems and remarkably stout,
almost woody roots.

A new Alpine willow (Salix Caespitosa) has
also been discovered. Professor Kennedy thus
writes of it:

The melting snow, as it comes through
and over the rocks in the nature of a spring,
brings with it particles of sand and vegetation,
which form a very shallow layer of soil on a flat
area to one side of the main branch of the stream.
On this the willow branches adhere like ivy, rooting
at every joint and interlaced so as to form a
dense mat. From these, erect leafy shoots,
one or two inches high, appear, with the many flowered
catkins extending above the foliage. The pistillate
plants occupy separate but adjacent areas to the
staminate ones.

[Illustration: An Alpine White Pine, Defying
the Storms, on the North Slope of Mt. Rose, 9,500
Ft.]

[Illustration: Tallac, Lake Tahoe]

[Illustration: Looking North from Cave Rock,
Lake Tahoe]

CHAPTER XXXI

THE CHAPARRAL OF THE TAHOE REGION

The word chaparral is a Spanish word, transferred
bodily into our language, without, however, retaining
its strict and original significance. In Spanish
it means a plantation of evergreen oaks, or, thick
bramble-bushes entangled with thorny shrubs in clumps.
Hence, in the west, it has come to mean any low or
scrub brush that thickly covers a hill or mountain-side.
As there is a varied chaparral in the Tahoe region,
it is well for the visitor to know of what it is mainly
composed.

Experience has demonstrated that where the larger
lumber is cut off close on the Sierran slopes of the
Tahoe region the low bushy chaparral at once takes
full possession. It seems to prevent the tree
seeds from growing and thus is an effectual preventive
to reforestation. This, however, is generally
not so apparent east of the main range as it is on
the western slopes. One of its chief elements
is the manzanita (Arctostaphylos patula) easily
distinguishable by the red wood of its stem and larger
branches, glossy leaves, waxen blossoms (when in flower)
and green or red berries in the early autumn.

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The snow-bush abounds. It is a low sage-green
bush, very thorny, hence is locally called “bide-a-wee”
from the name given by the English soldiers to a very
thorny bush they had to encounter during the Boer
War. In the late days of spring and even as late
as July it is covered with a white blossom that makes
it glorious and attractive.

Then there is the thimble-berry with its big, light
yellow, sprawling leaves, and its attractively red,
thimble-shaped, but rather tasteless berries.
The Indians, however, are very fond of them, and so
are some of the birds and animals, likewise of the
service berries, which look much like the blueberry,
though their flavor is not so choice.

Here and there patches of the wild gooseberry add
to the tangle of the chaparral. The gooseberries
when ripe are very red, as are the currants, but they
are armored with a tough skin completely covered with
sharp, hairy thorns. In Southern California all
the fruit of the wild ribes have the thorns,
but they do not compare in penetrating power and strength
with those of the Tahoe gooseberries.

One of the most charming features of the chaparral
is the mountain ash, especially when the berries are
ripe and red. The Scotch name rowan seems
peculiarly appropriate. Even while the berries
are yellow they are attractive to the eye, and alluring
to the birds, but when they become red they give a
splendid dash of rich color that sets off the whole
mountain side.

The mountain mahogany is not uncommon (Cereocarpus
parvifolius, Nutt.) and though its green flowers
are inconspicuous, its long, solitary plumes at fruiting
time attract the eye.

While the California laurel (Umbellularia Californica,
Nutt.) often grows to great height, it is found in
chaparral clumps on the mountain sides. It is
commonly known as the bay tree, on account of the
bay-like shape and odor of its leaves when crushed.
It gives a spicy fragrance to the air and is always
welcome to those who know it.

In many places throughout the mountains of the Tahoe
region there are clumps or groves of wild cherry (Prunus
Demissa, Walpers), the cherries generally ripening
in September. But if one expects the ripe red
wild cherries to have any of the delicious richness
and sweetness of the ripe Queen Anne or other good
variety he is doomed to sad disappointment. For
they are sour and bitter—­bitter as quinine,—­and
that is perhaps the reason their juice has been extracted
and made into medicine supposed to have extraordinary
tonic and healing virtue.

The elder is often found (Sambucus Glauca,
Nutt.), sometimes quite tall and at other times broken
down by the snow, but bravely covering its bent and
gnarled trunks and branches with dense foliage and
cream-white blossom-clusters. The berries are
always attractive to the eye in their purple tint,
with the creamy blush on them, and happy is that traveler
who has an expert make for him an elderberry pie, or
distill the rich cordial the berries make.

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Another feature of the chaparral often occupies the
field entirely to itself, viz., the chamisal
or greasewood (Adenostoma fasciculatum, Hook,
and Arn.). Its small clustered and needle-like
leaves, richly covered with large, feathery panicles
of tiny blossoms, give it an appearance not unlike
Scotch heather, and make a mountainside dainty and
beautiful.

The California buckeye (Aesculus Californica,
Nutt.) is also found, especially upon stream banks
or on the moist slopes of the canyons. Its light
gray limbs, broad leaves, and long, white flower-spikes
make it an attractive shrub or tree (for it often
reaches forty feet in height), and when the leaves
drop, as they do early, the skeleton presents a beautiful
and delicate network against the deep azure of the
sky.

Another feature of the chaparral is the scrub oak.
In 1913 the bushes were almost free from acorns.
They generally appear only every other year, and when
they do bear the crop is a wonderfully numerous one.

A vast amount of wild lilac (Ceanothus Velutinus)
is found on all the slopes. It generally blooms
in June and then the hillsides are one fragrant and
glowing mass of vivid white tinged with the creamy
hue that adds so much charm to the flowers.

The year 1913, however, was a peculiar year, throughout,
for plant life. In the middle of September in
Page’s Meadows a large patch of ceanothus was
in full bloom, either revealing a remarkably late
flowering, or a second effort at beautification.

Another ceanothus, commonly called mountain birch,
is often found. When in abundance and in full
flower it makes a mountain side appear as if covered
with drifted snow.

Willows abound in the canyons and on the mountains
of the Tahoe region, and they are an invariable sign
of the near presence of water.

There is scarcely a canyon where alders, cottonwoods
and quaking aspens may not be found. In 1913
either the lack of water, some adverse climatic condition,
or some fungus blight caused the aspen leaves to blotch
and fall from the trees as early as the beginning of
September. As a rule they remain until late in
October, changing to autumnal tints of every richness
and hue and reminding one of the glorious hues of
the eastern maples when touched by the first frosts
of winter.

No one used to exploring dry and desert regions, such
as the Colorado and Mohave Deserts of Southern California,
the Grand Canyon region, the Navajo Reservation, etc.,
in Arizona and New Mexico, the constant presence of
water in the Tahoe region is a perpetual delight.
Daily in my trips here I have wondered at the absence
of my canteen and sometimes in moments of forgetfulness
I would reach for it, and be almost paralyzed with
horror not to find it in its accustomed place.
But the never-ending joy of feeling that one could
start out for a day’s trip, or a camping-out
expedition of a week or a month and never give the
subject of water a moment’s thought, can only
be appreciated by those who are direfully familiar
with the dependence placed upon the canteen in less
favored regions.

Page 180

CHAPTER XXXII

HOW TO DISTINGUISH THE TREES OF THE TAHOE REGION

By “trees” in this chapter I mean only
the evergreen trees—­the pines, firs, spruces,
hemlocks, cedars, junipers and tamaracks. Many
visitors like to know at least enough when they are
looking at a tree, to tell which of the above species
it belongs to. All I aim to do here is to seek
to make clear the distinguishing features of the various
trees, and to give some of the more readily discernible
signs of the different varieties of the same species
found in the region.

It must not be forgotten that tree growth is largely
dependent upon soil conditions. The soil of the
Tahoe region is chiefly glacial detritus.

On the slopes and summits of the ridges
it is sandy, gravelly, and liberally strewn with
masses of drift bowlders. The flats largely
formed of silting while they still constituted beds
of lakes, have a deep soil of fine sand and mold
resting on coarse gravel and bowlder drift.
Ridges composed of brecciated lavas, which crumble
easily under the influence of atmospheric agencies,
are covered with soil two or three feet, or even more,
in depth, where gentle slopes or broad saddles have
favored deposition and prevented washing.
The granite areas of the main range and elsewhere
have a very thin soil. The flats at the entrance
of small streams into Lake Tahoe are covered with
deep soil, owing to deposition of vegetable matter
brought from the slopes adjacent to their channels.
As a whole, the soil of the region is of sufficient
fertility to support a heavy forest growth, its
depth depends wholly on local circumstances favoring
washing and removal of the soil elements as fast as
formed, or holding them in place and compelling accumulations.[1]

Coniferous species of trees constitute fully ninety-five
per cent. of the arborescent growth in the region.
The remaining five per cent. consists mostly of different
species of oak, ash, maple, mountain-mahogany, aspen,
cottonwood, California buckeye, western red-bud, arborescent
willows, alders, etc.

[Footnote 1: John B. Leiberg, in Forest Conditions
in the Northern Sierra Nevada.]

The range and chief characteristic of these trees,
generally speaking, are as follows:

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Digger Pine. This is seldom found in the
Tahoe region, except in the lower reaches of the canyons
on the west side of the range. It is sometimes
known as the Nut Pine, for it bears a nut of which
the natives are very fond. It has two cone forms,
one in which the spurs point straight down, the other
in which they are more or less curved at the tip.
They grow to a height of forty to fifty and occasionally
ninety feet high; with open crown and thin gray foliage.

Western Juniper. This is a typical tree
of the arid regions east of the Sierra, yet it is
to be found scattered throughout the Tahoe country,
generally at an elevation between five thousand and
eight thousand feet. It ranges in height from
ten to twenty-five or even sixty-five feet. Its
dull red bark, which shreds or flakes easily, its
berries, which begin a green color, shade through to
gray, and when ripe are a rich purple, make it readily
discernible. It is a characteristic feature of
the scenery at timber line in many Tahoe landscapes.

With the crowns beaten by storms into
irregular shapes, often dead on one side but flourishing
on the other, the tops usually dismantled and
the trunks excessively thickened at base, such
figures, whether erect, half overthrown or wholly
crouching, are the most picturesque of mountain
trees and are frequently of very great age.—­Jepson.

Yew. This is not often found and then
only in the west canyons above the main range.
It is a small and insignificant tree, rarely exceeding
forty feet in height. It has a thin red-brown
smooth bark which becomes shreddy as it flakes off
in thin and rather small pieces. The seeds are
borne on the under side of the sprays and when mature
set in a fleshy scarlet cup, the whole looking like
a brilliantly colored berry five or six inches long.
They ripen in July or August.

Incense Cedar. This is commonly found
all over the region at elevations below 7500 feet,
though its chief habitat is at elevations of 3500
to 6000 feet. It grows to a height of fifty to
one hundred and fifty feet, with a strongly conical
trunk, very thick at the base, and gradually diminishing
in size upward. The bark is thick, red-brown,
loose and fibrous, and when the tree is old, broken
into prominent heavy longitudinal furrows. The
cones are red-brown, oblong-ovate when closed, three-fourths
to an inch long.

Shasta Fir. This is found on the summits,
slopes and shores of Lake Tahoe, and to levels 6200
feet in elevation on the slopes and summits directly
connected with the main range. It is found along
the Mount Pluto ridge. It is essentially a tree
of the mountains, where the annual precipitation ranges
from fifty inches upward. In the Tahoe region
it is locally known as the red fir. Sometimes
it is called the red bark fir and golden fir.
It grows from sixty to even one hundred and seventy-five
feet high with trunk one to five feet in diameter and
a narrowly cone-shaped crown composed of numerous horizontal
strata of fan-shaped sprays. The bark on young
trees is whitish or silvery, on old trunks dark red,
very deeply and roughly fissured. The cones when
young are of a beautiful dull purple, when mature becoming
brown.

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White Pine. This is found on northern
slopes as low down as 6500 feet, though it generally
ranges above 7000 feet, and is quite common.
It sometimes is called the silver pine, and generally
in the Tahoe region, the mountain pine. It grows
to a height of from fifty to one hundred and seventy-five
feet, the branches slender and spreading or somewhat
drooping, and mostly confined to the upper portion
of the shaft. The trunk is from one to six feet
in diameter and clothed with a very smooth though
slightly checked whitish or reddish bark. The
needles are five (rarely four) in a place, very slender,
one to three and three-fourths inches long, sheathed
at the base by thinnish narrow deciduous scales, some
of which are one inch long. The cones come in
clusters of one to seven, from six to eight or rarely
ten inches long, very slender when closed and usually
curved towards the tip, black-purple or green when
young, buff-brown when ripe. It is best recognized
by its light-gray smooth bark, broken into squarish
plates, its pale-blue-green foliage composed of short
needles, and its pendulous cones so slender as to
give rise to the name “Finger-Cone Pine.”

Sugar Pine. This is found on the lower
terraces of Tahoe, fringing the region with a sparse
and scattering growth, but it is not found on the
higher slopes of the Sierra. On the western side
its range is nearly identical with that of the red
fir. It grows from eighty to one hundred and
fifty feet high, the young and adult trees symmetrical,
but the aged trees commonly with broken summits or
characteristically flat-topped with one or two long
arm-like branches exceeding shorter ones. The
trunk is from two to eight feet in diameter, and the
bark brown or reddish, closely fissured into rough
ridges. The needles are slender, five in a bundle,
two to three and a half inches long. The cones
are pendulous, borne on stalks at the end of the branches,
mostly in the very summit of the tree, very long-oblong,
thirteen to eighteen inches long, four to six inches
in diameter when opened.

This pine gains its name from its sugary
exudation, sought by the native tribes, which
forms hard white crystallized nodules on the upper
side of fire or ax wounds in the wood. This flow
contains resin, is manna-like, has cathartic properties,
and is as sweet as cane-sugar. The seeds
are edible. Although very small they are
more valued by the native tribes than the large seeds
of the Digger Pine on account of their better flavor.
In former days, when it came October, the Indians
went to the high mountains about their valleys
to gather the cones. They camped on the ridges
where the sugar pines grow and celebrated their
sylvan journey by tree-climbing contests among the
men. In these latter days, being possessed
of the white man’s ax, they find it more
convenient to cut the tree down. It is undoubtedly
the most remarkable of all pines, viewed either from
the standpoint of its economic value or sylvan interest.
It is the largest of pine trees, considered whether
as to weight or girth, and more than any other
tree gives beauty and distinction to the Sierran
forest.—­Jepson.

The long cones found in abundance about Tahoe Tavern
are those of the sugar pine.

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Yellow Pine and Jeffrey Pine. These are
practically one and the same, though the latter is
generally regarded as a variety and the former the
type. Mr. Leiberg says:

The two forms differ chiefly in the
size of the cones, in the tint and odor of the
foliage, and in the color and thickness of the
bark, differences which are insufficient to constitute
specific characters. The most conspicuous
of the above differences is that in the size of
the cones, which may seemingly hold good if only
a few hundred trees are examined. But when
one comes to deal with thousands of individuals the
distinction vanishes. It is common to find trees
of the Jeffrey type as to foliage and bark that
bear the big cones, and the characteristic smaller
cones of the typical yellow pine, both at the
same time and on the same individual, while old
cones strewn about on the ground indicate that in some
seasons trees of the Jeffrey type produce only
small-sized cones. The odor and the color
of leaves and bark are more or less dependent
on soil conditions and the inherent vitality of
the individual tree, and the same characters are found
in specimens belonging to the yellow and Jeffrey
pine. It is noticeable that the big-cone
variety preferably grows at considerable elevation
and on rocky sterile ground, while the typical
form of the yellow pine prevails throughout the lower
regions and on tracts with a more generous soil.

The yellow pine has a wider range than
any other of the Tahoe conifers, though on the
high, rocky areas, south and west of Rubicon Springs
it is lacking. It crosses from the western slopes
to the eastern sides of the Sierras and down into the
Tahoe basin over the heads of Miller and McKinney
Creeks, in both places as a thin line, or rather
as scattering trees mixed with Shasta fir and
white pine.

It grows from sixty to two hundred and twenty-five
feet high with trunk two to nine feet in diameter.
The limbs in mature trees are horizontal or even drooping.
The bark of typical trees is tawny yellow or yellow-brown,
divided by fissures into large smoothish or scaly-surfaced
plates which are often one to four feet long and one-half
to one and a quarter feet wide. The needles are
in threes, five to ten inches long; the cones reddish
brown.

It must be noted, too, that “the
bark is exceedingly variable, black-barked or
brown-barked trees, roughly or narrowly fissured,
are very common and in their extreme forms very
different in trunk appearance from the typical or
most-abundant ‘turtle-back’ form with
broad, yellow or light brown plates.”—­Jepson.

Lodge Pole Pine. The range of this tree
is almost identical with that of the Shasta fir, though
here and there it is found at as low an altitude as
4500 feet. It loves the margins of creeks, glades
and lakes situated at altitudes of 6000 feet and upward,
where it usually forms a fringe of nearly pure growth

Page 184

in the wet and swampy portions of the ground.
In the Tahoe region it is invariably called a tamarack
or tamarack pine. It is a symmetrical tree commonly
reaching as high as fifty to eighty feet, but occasionally
one hundred and twenty-five feet. When stunted,
however, it is only a few feet. The bark is remarkably
thin, rarely more than one quarter inch thick, light
gray in color, very smooth but flaking into small thin
scales. There are only two needles to a bunch,
in a sheath, one and a half to two and three quarters
inches long. The cones are chestnut brown, one
to one and three quarters inches long.

It is when sleeping under the lodge pole pines that
you begin to appreciate their perfect charm and beauty.
You unroll your blankets at the foot of a stately
tree at night, unconscious and careless as to what
tree it is. During the night, when the moon is
at the full, you awaken and look up into a glory of
shimmering light. The fine tapering shape, the
delicate fairy-like beauty, instantly appeal to the
sensitive soul and he feels he is in a veritable temple
of beauty.

They are very sensitive trees. In many places
a mere grass fire, quick and very fierce for a short
time, has destroyed quite a number.

White Fir. This follows closely the range
of the incense cedar, though in some places it is
found as high as 8700 feet. It is one of the
most perfect trees in the Sierras. Ranging from
sixty to one hundred and fifty and even two hundred
feet high, with a narrow crown composed of flat sprays
and a trunk naked for one-third to one-half its height
and from one to six feet in diameter, with a smooth
bark, silvery or whitish in young trees, becoming
thick and heavily fissured into rounded ridges on
old trunks, and gray or drab-brown in color, it is
readily distinguishable, with its companion, the red
fir, by the regularity of construction of trunk, branch
and branchlet. As Smeaton Chase expresses it,
“The fine smooth arms, set in regular formation,
divide and redivide again and again ad infinitum,
weaving at last into a maze of exquisitely symmetrical
twigs and branchlets.”

Red Fir. The range of the red fir is irregular.
It occurs on the Rubicon River and some of the headwaters
of the west-flowing streams, reaching a general height
of 6000 feet, though it is occasionally found as high
as 7000 feet. In some parts of California this
is known as Douglas Spruce, and Jepson, in his Silva
of California definitely states:

The name “fir” as applied
to the species is so well established among woodsmen
that for the sake of intelligibility the combination
Douglas Fir, which prevents confusion with the
true firs and has been adopted by the Pacific
Coast Lumberman’s Association, is here accepted,
notwithstanding that the name used by botanists,
“Douglas Spruce” is actually more
fitting on account of the greater number of spruce-like
characteristics. It is neither true spruce,

Page 185

fir, nor hemlock, but a marked type of a distinct
genus, namely, pseudotsuga.

It must not be confounded with the red silver fir
(Abies Magnifica) so eloquently described as
the chief delight of the Yosemite region by Smeaton
Chase. It grows from seventy to two hundred and
fifty or possibly three hundred and fifty feet high,
and is the most important lumber tree of the country,
considering the quality of its timber, the size and
length of its logs, and the great amount of heavy
wood and freedom from knots, shakes or defects.
On young trees the bark is smooth, gray or mottled,
sometimes alder-like; on old trunks one to six and
a half inches thick, soft or putty-like, dark brown,
fissured into broad heavy furrows. The young rapid
growth in the open woods produces “red fir”,
the older slower growth in denser woods is “yellow
fir”. Every tree to a greater or lesser
extent exhibits successively these two phases, which
are dependent upon situation and exposure.

The chief difference between the white and red fir
is in the spiculae or leaves. Those of
the red fir are shorter, stubbier and stiffer than
those of the white. The bark, however, is pretty
nearly alike in young trees and shows a marked difference
when they get to be forty to fifty years old.

The Alpine Spruce (Hesperopeuce Pattoniana
Lemmon) is found only in the highest elevations.
Common in Alaska it is limited in the Tahoe region
to the upper points of forests that creep up along
glacier beds and volcanic ravines, close to perpetual
ice. It disappears at 10,000 feet altitude on
Mt. Whitney and is found nowhere south of this
point. On Tallac, Mt. Rose and all the higher
peaks of the Tahoe region it is common, giving constant
delight with its slender shaft, eighty to a hundred
feet high, and with a diameter at its base of from
six to twelve feet. It is only in the lower portions
of the belt where it occurs. Higher it is reduced
to low conical masses of foliage or prostrate creeping
shrubs.

By many it is regarded as a hemlock, but it is not
strictly so. It was first discovered in 1852
by John Jeffrey, who followed David Douglas in his
explorations of the forests of the American Northwest.

In favorable situations, the lower limbs
are retained and become long, out-reaching, and
spreading over the mountain slope for many feet;
the upper limbs are irregularly disposed, not
whorled; they strike downward from the start (so that
it is almost impossible to climb one of the trees
for want of foothold), then curving outward to
the outline of the tree, they are terminated by
short, hairy branchlets that decline gracefully,
and are decorated with pendant cones which are glaucous
purple until maturity, then leather brown, with reflexed
scales.

The main stem sends out strong ascending
shoots, the leading one terminating so slenderly
as to bend from side to side with its many purple
pendants before the wind, and shimmering in the
sunlight with rare beauty.—­Lemmon.

On the slopes of Mt. Rose near timber line, which
ranges from 9700 to 10,000 feet according to exposures,
while still a tree of considerable size, it loses
its symmetrical appearance. Professor Kennedy
says:

Page 186

Buffeted by the fierce winter winds
and snows, the branches on the west side of the
tree are either entirely wanting or very short
and gnarled, and the bark is commonly denuded.
Unlike its associate, Pinus Albicaulis,
which is abundant as a prostrate shrub far above
timber line, the spruce is rarely encountered
above timber line at this place, but here and there
a hardy individual may be found lurking among the pines.
The greatest elevation at which it was noticed
is 10,500 feet.

To me this is one of the most beautiful of Sierran
trees. Its delicate silvery hue, and the rarely
exquisite shading from the old growth to the new,
its gracefulness, the quaint and fascinating tilt of
its tip which waveringly bends over in obedience to
whichever breeze is blowing makes it the most alluringly
feminine of all the trees of the Sierra Nevada.

It is interesting to note the differences in the cones,
and in the way they grow; singly, in clusters, at
the end of branches, on the stems, large, medium-sized,
small, short and stubby, long and slender, conical,
etc. Then, too, while the pines generally
have cones every year, the firs seem to miss a year,
and to bear only alternate years.

The gray squirrels are often great reapers of the
cones, before they are ripe. They cut them down
and then eat off the tips of the scales so that they
present a pathetically stripped appearance.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE BIRDS AND ANIMALS OF THE TAHOE REGION

Birds. The bird life of the Tahoe region
does not seem particularly interesting or impressive
to the casual observer. At first sight there
are not many birds, and those that do appear have
neither so vivid plumage nor sweet song as their feathered
relatives of the east, south and west. Nevertheless
there are several interesting species, and while this
chapter makes no pretense to completeness it suggests
what one untrained observer without birds particularly
on his mind has witnessed in the course of his several
trips to the Tahoe region.

It soon becomes evident that altitude has much to
do with bird life, some, as the meadow-lark and blackbird
never being found higher than the Lake shore, others
at the intermediate elevations where the Alpine hemlock
thrives, while still others, such as the rosy finch
and the rock-wren, are found only on the highest and
most craggy peaks.

While water birds are not numerous in the summer,
observant visitors at Lake Tahoe for the first time
are generally surprised to find numbers of sea gulls.
They fly back and forth, however, to and from their
native haunts by the sea. They never raise their
young here, generally making their return flight to
the shores of the Pacific in September, October and
at latest November, to come back in March and April.
While out on the mountain in these months, fifty or
more miles west of Lake Tahoe I have seen them, high
in the air, flying straight to the place they desired.

Page 187

The blue heron in its solitary and stately watchfulness
is occasionally seen, and again etches itself like
a Japanese picture against the pure blue of the sky.
The American bittern is also seen rarely.

Kingfishers are found, both on the lakes and streams.
It is fascinating to watch them unobserved, perched
on a twig, as motionless as if petrified, until, suddenly,
their prey is within grasp, and with a sudden splash
is seized.

On several of the lakes, occasionally on bays of Tahoe
itself, and often in the marshy lands and sloughs
of the Upper Truckee, near Tallac, ducks, mallard
and teal are found. Mud chickens in abundance
are also found pretty nearly everywhere all through
the year.

The weird cry of the loon is not infrequently heard
on some of the lakes, and one of these latter is named
Loon Lake from the fact that several were found there
for a number of years.

Flocks of white pelicans are sometimes seen.
Blackbirds of two or three kinds are found in the
marshes, also killdeer, jacksnipe and the ever active
and interesting spotted sandpipers. A few meadow-larks
now and again are heard singing their exquisite song,
reminding one of Browning’s wise thrush which
“sings each song twice over, lest you should
think he cannot recapture that first fine careless
rapture.”

Doves are not common, but now and again one may hear
their sweet melancholy song, telling us in Joaquin
Miller’s poetic and exquisite interpretation:

There are many to-morrows, my love, my love,
But only one to-day.

In the summer robins are frequently seen. Especially
do they revel on the lawns at Tahoe Tavern, their
red-breasts and their peculiar “smithing”
or “cokeing” just as alluring and interesting
as the plumage and voices of the richer feathered
and finer songsters of the bird family.

Mountain quails are quite common, and one sometimes
sees a dozen flocks in a day. Grouse are fairly
plentiful. One day just on the other side of
Granite Chief Peak a fine specimen sailed up and out
from the trail at our very feet, soared for quite a
distance, as straight as a bullet to its billet for
a cluster of pine trees, and there hid in the branches.
My guide walked down, gun in hand, ready to shoot,
and as he came nearer, two others dashed up in disconcerting
suddenness and flew, one to the right, the other to
the left. We never got a sight of any of them
again.

At another time I was coming over by Split Crag from
the Lake of the Woods, with Mr. Price, of Fallen Leaf
Lodge, when two beautiful grouse arose from the trail
and soared away in their characteristic style.

At one time sage-hens were not infrequent on the Nevada
side of the Lake, and as far west as Brockways.
Indeed it used to be a common thing for hunters, in
the early days, to come from Truckee, through Martis
Valley, to the Hot Springs (as Brockways was then named)
and shoot sage-hens all along the way. A few
miles north of Truckee, Sage Hen Creek still preserves,
in the name, the fact that the sage-hen was well known
there.

Page 188

Bald-headed and golden eagles are often seen in easy
and circular flight above the highest peaks.
In the fall and winter they pass over into the wild
country near the almost inaccessible peaks above the
American River and there raise their young. One
year Mr. Price observed a pair of golden eagles which
nested on Mt. Tallac. He and I were seated
at lunch one day in September, 1913, on the very summit
of Pyramid Peak, when, suddenly, as a bolt out of
a clear sky, startling us with its wild rush, an eagle
shot obliquely at us from the upper air. The
speed with which it fell made a noise as of a “rushing
mighty wind.” Down! down, it fell, and
then with the utmost grace imaginable, swept up, still
going at terrific speed, circled about, and was soon
lost to sight.

Almost as fond of the wind-tossed pines high up on
the slopes of the mountain as is the eagle of the
most rugged peaks, is Clark’s crow, a grayish
white bird, with black wings, and a harsh, rasping
call, somewhat between that of a crow and the jay.

Of an entirely different nature, seldom seen except
on the topmost peaks, is the rosy-headed finch.
While on the summit of Pyramid Peak, we saw two of
them, and one of them favored us with his (or her)
sweet, gentle song.

Hawks are quite common; among those generally seen
are the long tailed grouse-hawk, the sparrow hawk,
and the sharp-shinned hawk. Night-hawks are quite
conspicuous, if one walks about after sunset.
They are dusky with a white throat and band on the
wing. They sail through the air without any effort,
wings outspread and beak wide open, and thus glean
their harvest of winged insects as they skim along.
Oftentimes their sudden swoop will startle you as
they rush by.

Woodpeckers are numerous, and two or three species
may be seen almost anywhere in a day’s walk
through one of the wooded sections. Many are
the trees which bear evidence of their industry, skill
and providence. The huge crow-like pileolated
woodpecker with its scarlet crest, the red-shafted
flicker, the Sierra creeper, the red-breasted sap-sucker,
Williamson’s sap-sucker, the white-headed woodpecker,
Cabanis’s woodpecker with spotted wings and
gray breast, the most common of woodpeckers, and Lewis’s
woodpecker, a large heavy bird, glossy black above,
with a white collar and a rich red underpart, have
all been seen for many years in succession.

The red-breasted sap-sucker and Williamson’s
sap-sucker are found most frequently among the aspens
and willows along the lake shore, while the red-shafted
flicker, Cabanis’s woodpecker, and the white-head
favor the woods. One observer says the slender-billed
nut-hatch is much more common than the red-breasted,
and that his nasal laugh resounded at all times through
the pines.

High up in the hemlock forests is the interesting
Alpine three-toed woodpecker. It looks very much
like Cabanis’s, only it has three toes in place
of four, and a yellow crown instead of a black and
red one.

Page 189

In importance after the woodpeckers come the members
of the sparrow family that inhabit the Tahoe region.
The little black-headed snowbird, Thurber’s
junco, is the most common of all the Tahoe birds.
The thick-billed sparrow, a grayish bird with spotted
breast and enormous bill is found on all the brushy
hillsides and is noted for its glorious bursts of
rich song.

Now and again one will see a flock of English sparrows,
and the sweet-voiced song-sparrow endeavors to make
up for the vulgarity of its English cousin by the
delicate softness of its peculiar song.

Others of the family are the two purple finches (reddish
birds), the pine-finch, very plain and streaked, the
green-tailed towhee, with its cat-like call, and the
white-crowned sparrow,—­its sweetly melancholy
song, “Oh, dear me,” in falling cadence,
is heard in every Sierran meadow.

The mountain song-sparrow, western lark, western chipping-fox,
gold-finch, and house- and cassin-finches are seen.
The fly-catchers are omnipresent in August, though
their shy disposition makes them hard to identify.
Hammond, olive-sided and western pewee are often seen,
and at times the tall tree-tops are alive with kinglets.

Some visitors complain that they do not often see
or hear the warblers, but in 1905, one bird-lover
reported seven common representatives. She says:

The yellow bird was often heard and
seen in the willows along the Lake. Late
in August the shrubs on the shore were alive with
the Audubon group, which is so abundant in the vicinity
of Los Angeles all winter. Pileolated warblers,
with rich yellow suits and black caps, hovered
like hummers among the low shrubs in the woods.
Now and then a Pacific yellow-throat sang his
bewitching “wichity wichity, wichity, wee.”
Hermit and black-throated gray warblers were also
recorded. The third week in August there
was an extensive immigration of Macgillivray warblers.
Their delicate gray heads, yellow underparts,
and the bobbing movement of the tail, distinguished
them from the others.

The water ouzel finds congenial habitat in the canyons
of the Tahoe region, and the careful observer may
see scores of them as he walks along the streams and
by the cascades and waterfalls during a summer’s
season. At one place they are so numerous as to
have led to the naming of a beautiful waterfall, Ouzel
Falls, after them. Another bird is much sought
after and can be seen and heard here, perhaps as often
as any other place in the country. That is the
hermit thrush, small, delicate, grayish, with spotted
breast. The shyness of the bird is proverbial,
and it frequents the deepest willow and aspen thickets.
Once heard, its sweet song can never be forgotten,
and happy is he who can get near enough to hear it
undisturbed. Far off, it is flute-like, pure
and penetrating, though not loud. Gradually it
softens until it sounds but as the faintest of tinkling
bell-like notes, which die away leaving one with the
assurance that he has been hearing the song of the
chief bird of the fairies, or of birds which accompany
the heavenly lullabies of the mother angels putting
their baby angels to sleep.

Page 190

Cliff-swallows often nest on the high banks at Tahoe
City, and a few have been seen nesting under the eaves
of the store on the wharf. The nests of barn
swallows also have been found under the eaves of the
ice-house.

Nor must the exquisite hummers be overlooked.
In Truckee Canyon, and near Tahoe Tavern they are
quite numerous. They sit on the telephone wires
and try to make you listen to their pathetic and scarcely
discernible song, and as you sit on the seats at the
Tavern, if you happen to have some bright colored
object about you, especially red, they will flit to
and fro eagerly seeking for the honey-laden flower
that red ought to betoken.

Several times down Truckee Canyon I have seen wild
canaries. They are rather rare, as are also the
Louisiana tanager, most gorgeous of all the Tahoe
birds, and the black-headed grosbeak.

Of the wrens, both the rock wren and the canyon wren
are occasionally seen, the peculiar song of the latter
bringing a thrill of cheer to those who are familiar
with its falling chromatic scale.

Then there is the merry chick-a-dee-dee, the busy
creepers, and the nut-hatches hunting for insects
on the tree trunks.

The harsh note of the blue jay is heard from Tahoe
Tavern, all around the Lake and in almost every wooded
slope in the Sierras. He is a noisy, generally
unlovable creature, and the terror of the small birds
in the nesting season, because of his well-known habit
of stealing eggs and young. At Tahoe Tavern,
however, I found several of them that were shamed
into friendliness of behavior, and astonishing tameness,
by the chipmunks. They would come and eat nuts
from my fingers, and one of them several times came
and perched upon my shoulder. There is also the
grayish solitaire which looks very much like the mockingbird
of less variable climes.

The foregoing account of the birds, which I submitted
for revision to Professor Peter Frandsen, of the University
of Nevada, called forth from him the following:

I have very little to add to this admirable
bird account. Besides the gulls, their black
relatives, the swallow-like terns, are occasionally
seen. The black-crowned night-heron is less
common than the great blue heron. Clarke’s
crow is more properly called Clarke’s nutcracker—­a
different genus. The road robin or chewink
is fairly common in the thickets above the Lake.
Nuttal’s poor will, with its call of two syllables,
is not infrequently heard at night. The silent
mountain blue-bird, sialia arctica, is
sometimes seen. So is the western warbling
vireo. The solitary white-rumped shrike is occasionally
met with in late summer. Owls are common but what
species other than the western horned owl I do
not know. Other rather rare birds are the
beautiful lazuli bunting and the western warbling
vireo. Among the wood-peckers I have also noted
the bristle-bellied wood-pecker, or Lewis’s wood-pecker,
Harris’s wood-pecker, and the downy wood-pecker.

ANIMALS. These are even more numerous
than the birds, though except to the experienced observer
many of them are seldom noticed.

Page 191

While raccoons are not found on the eastern slopes
of the High Sierras, or in the near neighborhood of
the Lake, they are not uncommon on the western slopes,
near the Rubicon and the headwaters of the various
forks of the American and other near-by rivers.

Watson assured me that every fall he sees tracks on
the Rubicon and in the Hell Hole region of very large
mountain lions. They hide, among other places,
under and on the limbs of the wild grapevines, which
here grow to unusual size. In the fall of 1912
he saw some strange markings, and following them was
led to a cluster of wild raspberry vines, among which
was a dead deer covered over with fir boughs.
In telling me the story he said:

I can generally read most of the things
I see in the woods, but this completely puzzled
me. I determined to find out all there was
to be found. Close by I discovered the fir from
which the boughs had been stripped. It was
as if some one of giant strength had reached up
to a height of seven or eight feet and completely
stripped the tree of all its lower limbs. Then
I asked myself the question: “Who’s
camping here?” I thought he had used these
limbs to make a bed of. But there was no
water nearby, and no signs of camping, so I saw that
was a wrong lead. Then I noticed that the
limbs were too big to be torn off by a man’s
hands, and there were blood stains all about.
Then I found the fragments of a deer. “Now,”
I said to myself, “I’ve got it.
A bear has killed this deer and has eaten part
of it and will come back for the rest.”
You know a bear does this sometimes. But
when I hunted for bear tracks there wasn’t
a sign of a bear. Then I assumed that some hunter
had been along, killed a doe (contrary to law),
had eaten what he could and hidden the rest, covering
the hide with leaves and these branches.
But then I knew a hunter would cut off those branches
with a knife, and these were torn off. The blood
spattered about, the torn-off boughs and the fact
that there were no tracks puzzled me, and I felt
there was a mystery and, probably, a tragedy.

But a day or two later I met a woodsman
friend of mine, and I took him to the spot.
He explained the whole thing clearly. As
soon as he saw it he said, “That’s a mountain-lion.”
“But,” said I, “Where’s
his tracks?” “He didn’t make any,”
he replied, “he surprised the doe by crawling
along the vines. I’ve found calves
and deer hidden like this before, and I’ve seen
clear traces of the panthers, and once I watched one
as he killed, ate and then hid his prey.
But as you know he won’t touch it after
it begins to decompose, but a bear will. And
that’s the reason we generally think it is
a bear that does the killing, when in reality
it is a mountain lion who has had his fill and
left the remains for other predatory animals, while
he has gone off to hunt for a fresh kill.”

Occasionally sheep-herders report considerable devastations
from mountain-lions and bear to the Forest Rangers.
James Bryden, who grazes his sheep on the Tahoe reserve
near Downieville, lost sixteen sheep in one night
in July, 1911.

Page 192

There are three kinds each of chipmunks and ground-squirrels.
All of the former have striped backs and do more or
less climbing of trees. Of their friendliness,
greediness, and even sociability—­where nuts
are in evidence or anticipated—­I have written
fully in the chapter on Tahoe Tavern. Of the
three ground-squirrels the largest is the common ground-squirrel
of the valleys of California. It is gray, somewhat
spotted on the back, and has a whitish collar and a
bushy tail. The next in size is the “picket-pin”,
so called from his habit of sitting bolt upright on
his haunches and remaining steadfast there, without
the slightest movement, until danger threatens, when
he whisks away so rapidly that it is quite impossible
to follow his movements. In color he is of a
grayish brown, with thick-set body, and short, slim
tail. He has an exceeding sharp call, and makes
his home in grassy meadows from the level of the Lake
nearly to the summits of the highest peaks. The
“copper-head” is the other ground-squirrel,
though by some he may be regarded as a chipmunk, for
he has a striped back.

The flying squirrel is also found here. It comes
out only at night and lives in holes in trees.
On each side between the fore and hind legs it has
a hairy flap, which when stretched out makes the body
very broad, and together with its hairy tail it is
enabled to sail from one tree to another, though always
alighting at a lower level. A more correct name
would be a “sailing” squirrel. The
fur is very soft, of a mouse color and the animal
makes a most beautiful pet. It has great lustrous
eyes and is about a foot in length.

The tree squirrel about the Lake is the pine squirrel
or “chickeree.” The large tree squirrel
is abundant on the west slope of the Sierra from about
six thousand feet downward, but it is not in the Lake
basin, so far as I am aware. The pine squirrel
is everywhere, from the Lake side to the summits of
the highest wooded peaks. It is dark above, whitish
to yellow below, usually with a black line along the
side. The tail is full, bushy, the hairs tipped
with white forming a broad fringe. It feeds on
the seeds of the pine cones.

The woodchuck or marmot is a huge, lumbering, squirrel-like
animal in the rocky regions, wholly terrestrial and
feeding chiefly on roots and grass. The young
are fairly good eating and to shoot them with a rifle
is some sport.

Of the fur bearing and carnivorous animals the otter,
fisher, etc., all are uncommon, though some are
trapped every year by residents of the Lake.
The otter and mink live along the larger streams and
on the Lake shore where they feed chiefly on fish.
They may sometimes catch a wild fowl asleep.
The martin and fisher live in pine trees usually in
the deepest forests, and they probably prey on squirrels,
mice and birds. They are usually nocturnal in
their habits. The martin is the size of a large
tree squirrel; the fisher is about twice that size.
The foxes are not often seen, but the coyote is everywhere,
a scourge to the few bands of sheep. Often at
night his long-drawn, doleful howl may be heard, a
fitting sound in some of the wild granite canyons.

Page 193

One day while passing Eagle Crag, opposite Idlewild,
the summer residence of C.F. Kohl, of San Francisco,
with Bob Watson, he informed me that, in 1877, he
was following the tracks of a deer and they led him
to a cave or grotto in the upper portion of the Crag.
While he stood looking in at the entrance a snarling
coyote dashed out, far more afraid of him than he
was surprised at the sudden appearance of the creature.

A few bears are still found in the farther away recesses
of the Sierras, and on one mountain range close to
the Lake, viz., the one on which Freel’s,
Job’s and Job’s Sister are the chief peaks.
These are brown or cinnamon, and black. There
are no grizzlies found on the eastern slopes of the
Sierras, nowadays, and it is possible they never crossed
the divide from the richer-clad western slopes.
In September, 1913, a hunting party, led by Mr. Comstock,
of Tallac, and Lloyd Tevis, killed two black bears,
one of them weighing fully four hundred pounds, on
Freel’s Mountain, and in the same season Mr.
Carl Flugge, of Cathedral Park, brought home a good-sized
cinnamon from the Rubicon country, the skin of which
now adorns my office floor.

The grizzly has long since been driven from the mountains,
though there may be a few in southern Alpine County,
but the evidence is not conclusive. The panther
is migratory, preying on young colts and calves.
They are not at all common, though some are heard of
every year. The “ermine” is pure
white in winter, except the tip of the tail, which
is black. It is yellowish brown in summer.

There are two rabbits, one a huge jackrabbit of the
great plains region, the other the “snowshoe”
rabbit, so called because of his broad furry feet
which keep it from sinking into the soft snow in winter.
Both rabbits are very rare, and probably both turn
white in winter. I have seen specimens of the
snowshoe rabbit taken in winter that are pure white.

On the wildest and most desolate peaks and rock piles
is found the cony or pika or “rock rabbit”
as it is variously called. It is small, only
six inches or so in length, tailless but with large
round ears and soft grayish fur like a rabbit’s.

The jumping mouse is interesting. It may be seen
sometimes at evening in swampy areas and meadows.
It is yellowish above, whitish below, with an extremely
long tail. It travels by long leaps, takes readily
to the water and is an expert swimmer. The meadow
mice are bluish grey and are found in swampy places.
The wood mice are pure white below, brown above and
are found everywhere.

Quite a number of badgers are to be found in the Tahoe
region, and they must find abundance of good food,
for the specimens I have seen were rolling in fat,
and as broad backed as a fourteen inch board.

Page 194

Several times, also, have I seen porcupines, one of
them, weighing fully twenty-five pounds, on the slopes
of Mt. Watson, waddling along as if he were a
small bear. They live on the tender bark of the
mountain and tamarack pines, sometimes girdling the
trees and causing them to die. They are slow-gaited
creatures, easily caught by dogs, but with their needle
spines, and the sharp, quick-slapping action of their
tails, by means of which they can thrust, insert, inject—­which
is the better word?—­a score or more of these
spines into a dog’s face, they are antagonists
whose prowess cannot be ignored.

Very few people would think of the porcupine as an
animal destructive to forest trees, yet one of the
Tahoe Forest rangers reports that in the spring of
1913 fifty young trees, averaging thirty feet high,
were killed or ruined by porcupines stripping them
of their bark. Sometimes as many as ninety per
cent. of the young trees growing on a burned-over
area are thus destroyed. They travel and feed
at night, hence the ordinary observer would never
know their habits.

The bushy-tailed woodrat proves itself a nuisance
about the houses where it is as omnivorous an eater
as is its far-removed cousin, the house rat.
The gopher is one of the mammals whose mark is more
often seen than the creature itself. It lives
like the mole in underground burrows, coming to the
surface only to push up the dirt that it has been
digging.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE SQUAW VALLEY MINING EXCITEMENT

The Tahoe region was once thrilled through and through
by a real mining excitement that belonged to itself
alone. It had felt the wonderful activity that
resulted from the discovery of the Comstock lode in
Virginia City. It had seen its southern border
crowded with miners and prospectors hurrying to the
new field, and later had heard the blasting and picking,
the shoveling and dumping of rocks while the road
from Placerville was being constructed.

It had seen another road built up from Carson over
the King’s Canyon grade, and lumber mills established
at Glenbrook in order to supply the mines with timbers
for their tunnels and excavations, as the valuable
ore and its attendant waste-rocks were hauled to the
surface.

But now it was to have an excitement and a stampede
all its own. An energetic prospector from Georgetown,
El Dorado County, named Knox, discovered a big ledge
of quartz in Squaw Valley. It was similar rock
to that in which the Comstock silver was found in large
quantities. Though the assays of the floating-rock
did not yield a large amount of the precious metals,
they showed a little—­as high as $3.50 per
ton. This was enough. There were bound to
be higher grade ores deeper down. The finder
filed his necessary “locations,” and doubtless
aided by copious draughts of “red-eye”
saw, in swift imagination, his claim develop into
a mine as rich as those that had made the millionaires
of Virginia City. Anyhow the rumor spread like
a prairie fire, and men came rushing in from Georgetown,
Placerville, Last Chance, Kentucky Flat, Michigan
Bluff, Hayden Hill, Dutch Flat, Baker Divide, Yankee
Jim, Mayflower, Paradise, Yuba, Deadwood, Jackass Gulch
and all the other camps whose locators and residents
had not been as fortunate financially as they were
linguistically.

Page 195

Knox started a “city” which he named Knoxville,
the remains of which are still to be seen in the shape
of ruined log-cabins, stone chimneys, foundations
of hewed logs, a graveyard, etc., on the left
hand side of the railway coming from Truckee, and about
six miles from Tahoe.

One has but to let his imagination run riot for a
few moments to see this now deserted camp a scene
of the greatest activity. The many shafts and
tunnels, dump-piles and prospect-holes show how busy
a spot it must have been. The hills about teemed
with men. At night the log store—­still
standing—­and the saloons—­tents,
shacks and log houses—­were crowded with
those who sought in the flowing bowl some surcease
from the burden of their arduous labors.

Now and again a shooting took place, a man actually
“died with his boots on,” as in the case
of one King, a bad man from Texas who had a record,
and whose sudden end was little, if any, lamented.
He had had a falling out with the store-keeper, Tracey,
and had threatened to kill him on sight. The
former bade him keep away from his store, but King
laughed at the prohibition, and with the blind daring
that often counts as courage with such men—­for
he assumed that the store-keeper would not dare to
shoot—­he came down the following day, intending
himself to do all the shooting there was to be done.
But he reckoned mistakenly. Tracey saw him coming,
came to the door, bade him Halt! and on his sneering
refusal, shot the bad man dead.

In September, 1913, I paid a visit to Knoxville.
Just above the town, on the eastern slope of the mountain,
were several tunnels and great dump-piles, clearly
showing the vast amount of work that had been done.
The quartz ledge that caused the excitement was distinctly
in evidence, indeed, when the Tahoe Railway roadbed
was being graded, this quartz ledge was blasted into,
and the director of operations sent a number of specimens
for assay, the rock looked so favorable.

Here and there were the remains of old log-cabins,
with their outside stone chimneys. In some cases
young tamaracks, fifteen and twenty feet high, had
grown up within the areas once confined by the walls.
These ruins extended all the way down to Deer Creek,
showing the large number of inhabitants the town once
possessed.

I saw the graveyard by the side of the river, where
King’s body was the first to be buried, and
I stood in the doorway of the store from which the
shot that killed him was fired.

In imagination, I saw the whole life of the camp,
as I have seen mining-camps after a stampede in Nevada.
The shacks, rows of tents, and the rudely scattered
and varied dwellings that the ingenuity and skill
of men hastily extemporized. Most of the log-houses
are now gone, their charred remnants telling of the
indifferent carelessness of campers, prospectors or
Indians.

The main street was in a pretty little meadowed vale,
lined on either side with trees, and close to the
Truckee, which here rushes and dashes and roars and
sparkles among the bowlders and rocks that bestrew
its bed.

Page 196

When it was found the ore did not “pan out,”
the excitement died down even more rapidly than it
arose, and in 1863-4 the camp was practically dead.

It has been charged that the Squaw Valley claims were
“salted” with ore brought from Virginia
City. I am inclined to doubt this, and many of
the old timers deny it. They assert that Knox
was “on the square” and that he firmly
believed he had paying ore. It is possible there
may have been the salting of an individual claim or
so after the camp started, but the originators of
the camp started it in good faith, as they themselves
were the greatest losers when the “bottom”
of the excitement dropped out.

About a mile further up the river is still to be seen
the site of the rival town of Claraville, founded
at the same time as Knoxville. There is little
left here, though the assay office, built up against
a massive square rock still stands. It is of hewed
timbers rudely dovetailed together at the corners.

It would scarcely be worth while to recount even this
short history of the long dead,—­almost
stillborn—­Squaw Valley camp were it not
for the many men it brought to Lake Tahoe who have
left their impress and their names upon its most salient
canyons, streams, peaks and other landmarks.
Many of these have been referred to elsewhere.

One of the first to arrive was William Pomin, the
brother of the present captain of the steamer Tahoe.
His wife gave birth to the first white child born
on Lake Tahoe, and she was named after the Lake.
She now lives in San Francisco. When she was no
more than two or three months old, her mother took
her on mule-back, sixty miles over the trail to Forest
Hill, in one day. Pomin removed to the
north shore of the Lake when Squaw Valley “busted,”
and was one of the founders of Tahoe City, building
and conducting one of the first hotels there.

Another of these old timers was J.W. McKinney,
from whom McKinney’s was named. He came
from the mining-camp of Georgetown over the trail,
and engaged himself in selling town lots at Knoxville.
He and Knox had worked together in the El Dorado excitement.

He originally came over the plains in the gold-alluring
days of ’49. When his party reached the
land of the Indians, these aborigines were too wise
to make open attacks. They hit upon the dastardly
method of shooting arrows into the bellies of the
oxen, so that the pioneers would be compelled to abandon
them. One night McKinney was on guard duty.
He was required to patrol back and forth and meet another
sentinel at a certain tree. There they would stop
and chat for a few moments before resuming their solitary
march. Just before day-break, after a few words,
they separated. On answering the breakfast call
McKinney found he was alone, and on going back to investigate,
found his companion lying dead with an arrow through
his heart. The moccasin tracks of an Indian clearly
revealed who was the murderer, and a little study
showed that the Indian had swam the river, waited until
the sentinel passed close by him, and had then sent
the arrow true to its fatal mark.

Page 197

The next night the Indians shot an arrow into an ox.
In the morning it was unable to travel, but McKinney
and his friends had determined to do something to
put a stop to these attacks. Taking the ox in
the shadow of a knoll, they shot it, and eight men
then hid in the shelter of some brush where the carcass
was clearly in view.

When the train pulled out it seemed as if they had
abandoned the ox. It was scarcely out of sight
when the watchers saw eight Indians come sneaking
up. Each man took the Indian allotted to him,
but by some error two men shot at the same Indian,
so that when the guns were fired and seven men fell
dead the other escaped. On one of them was found
seven twenty-dollar gold pieces wrapped up in a dirty
rag, which had doubtless cost some poor emigrant or
miner his life. Some of the party wished to leave
this gold with the dead Indian, but McKinney said
his scruples would not allow him to do any such thing,
and the gold found its way into his pocket.

Though a man of practically no education—­it
is even said by those who claim to have known him
well that he could neither read nor write, but this
seems improbable—­he was a man of such keen
powers of observation, retentive memory, ability in
conversation and strong personality, that he was able
to associate on an equality with men of most superior
attainments. John Muir was a frequent visitor
to his home, especially in the winter time when all
tourists and resort guests had gone away. John
McGee, another well-known lover of the winter mountains,
was also a welcome guest, who fully appreciated the
manly vigor and sterling character of the transplanted
Missourian.

John Ward, from whom Ward Creek and Ward Peak (8,665
feet) are named, was another Squaw Valley mining excitement
stampeder. He came in the early days of the rush,
and as soon as the camp died down, located on the
mouth of the creek that now bears his name.

The next creek to the south—­Blackwood’s,—­is
named after still another Squaw Valley stampeder.
For years he lived at the mouth of this creek and
gained his livelihood as a fisherman.

The same explanation accounts for Dick Madden Creek.

Barker who has peak, pass and valley named after him,
came from Georgetown to Knoxville, and like so many
other of his unfortunate mining brethren from over
the divide, started a dairy on the west side of the
pass which bears his name. The valley, however,
was so high and cold that more than half the year
the cream would not rise, so he gave up dairying and
went elsewhere.

These are but a few of many who might be mentioned,
whose names are linked with the Tahoe region, and
who came to it in the hope of “making their
everlasting fortunes” when Squaw Valley “started
up.”

CHAPTER XXXV

THE FREMONT HOWITZER AND LAKE TAHOE

Hundreds of thousands of Americans doubtless have
read “How a Woman’s Wit Saved California
to the Union,” yet few indeed know how intimately
that fascinating piece of history is linked with Lake
Tahoe.

Page 198

Here is the story of the link:

When Fremont started out on his Second Exploration
(fairly well dealt with in another chapter), he stopped
at the Kansas frontier to equip. When he finally
started, the party (108) was armed generally with
Hall’s carbines, which, says Fremont:

with a brass twelve-pound howitzer,
had been furnished to me from the United States
arsenal at St. Louis, agreeably to the command
of Colonel S.W. Kearny, commanding the third
military division. Three men were especially
detailed for the management of this, under the
charge of Louis Zindel, a native of Germany, who
had been nineteen years a non-commissioned officer
of the artillery in the Prussian army, and regularly
instructed in the duties of his profession.

As soon as the news that he had added a cannon to
his equipment reached Washington, the Secretary of
War, James M. Porter, sent a message after him, post
haste, countermanding the expedition on the ground
that he had prepared himself with a military equipment,
which the pacific nature of his journey did not require.
It was specially charged as a heinous offense that
he had procured a small mountain howitzer from the
arsenal at St. Louis, in addition to his other firearms.

But Fremont had already started. He was not far
on his way, and the message could have reached him
easily. It was not destined to do so, however,
until after his return. The message came to the
hands of his girl-wife, Jessie Benton Fremont, the
daughter of Missouri’s great senator, Thomas
H. Benton, and she knew, as Charles A. Moody has well
written, that

this order, obeyed, would indefinitely
postpone the expedition—­probably wreck
it entirely. She did not forward it.
Consulting no one, since there was no one at hand to
consult, she sent a swift messenger to her husband
with word to break camp and move forward at once—­“he
could not have the reason for haste, but there
was reason enough.” And he, knowing
well and well trusting the sanity and breadth of that
girl-brain, hastened forward, unquestioning, while
she promptly informed the officer whose order
she had vetoed, what she had done, and why.
So far as human wit may penetrate, obedience to
that backward summons would have meant, three years
later, the winning of California by another nation—­and
what that loss would have signified to the
United States none can know fully, but any may
partly guess who realizes a part of what California
has meant for us.

In commenting later upon this countermand of the Expedition
Fremont remarks:

It is not probable that I would have
been recalled from the Missouri frontier to Washington
to explain why I had taken an arm that simply
served to increase the means of defense for a
small party very certain to encounter Indian hostility,
and which involved very trifling expense.
The administration in Washington was apparently
afraid of the English situation in Oregon.

Page 199

Unconscious, therefore, of his wife’s action,—­which
might easily have ruined his career—­Fremont
pushed on. The howitzer accompanied him into
Oregon, back through into Nevada, and is clearly seen
in the picture of Pyramid Lake drawn by Mr. Preuss
(which appears in the original report), showing it
after it had traveled in the neighborhood of four
thousand miles.

The last time it was fired as far as the Fremont Expedition
is concerned was on Christmas Eve, in 1843. The
party was camped on Christmas Lake, now known as Warner
Lake, Oregon, and the following morning the gun crew
wakened Fremont with a salute, fired in honor of the
day. A month later, two hundred and fifty miles
south, it was to be abandoned in the mountains near
West Walker River, on account of the deep snow which
made it impossible for the weary horses to drag it
further.

On the 28th of January Fremont thus writes:

To-night we did not succeed
in getting the howitzer into camp.
This was the most laborious
day we had yet passed through, the
steep ascents and deep snows
exhausting both men and animals.

Possibly now the thought began to take possession
of him that the weapon must be left behind. For
long weary days it had been a constant companion.
It had been dragged over the plains, mountains and
canyons. It was made to ford rivers, plunge through
quicksands and wallow through bog, mire, mud, marsh
and snow. Again and again it delayed them when
coming over sandy roads, but tenaciously Fremont held
on to it. Now deep snow forbade its being dragged
further. Haste over the high mountains of the
Sierra Nevada was imperative, for such peaks and passes
are no lady’s playground when the forces of winter
begin to linger there, yet one can well imagine the
regret and distress felt by the Pathfinder at being
compelled to abandon this cannon, to which he had
so desperately clung on all the wearisome miles his
company had hitherto marched.

On the 29th he writes:

The principal stream still running through
an impracticable canyon, we ascended a very steep
hill, which proved afterwards the last and fatal
obstacle to our little howitzer, which was finally
abandoned at this place. [This place appears to be
about eight or ten miles up the river from Coleville,
and on the right or east side of the river.] We
passed through a small meadow a few miles below,
crossing the river, which depth, swift current,
and rock, made it difficult to ford [this brings
him to the west bank for the first time, but the cannon
did not get this far, and therefore was left on the
east side of the river. This is to be noted
on account of the fact that it was found on the
other side of the river in another canyon], and
after a few more miles of very difficult trail,
issued into a larger prairie bottom, at the farther
end of which we camped, in a position rendered
strong by rocks and trees.

The reader must not forget that the notes in brackets
[ ] are interjections in Fremont’s narrative
by Mr. Smith, (see the chapter on Fremont’s
discovery of Lake Tahoe).

Page 200

Fremont continues:

The other division of the party did
not come in to-night, but camped in the upper
meadow, and arrived the next morning. They had
not succeeded in getting the howitzer beyond the place
mentioned, and where it had been left by Mr. Preuss,
in obedience to my orders; and, in anticipation
of the snow-banks and snow-fields ahead, foreseeing
the inevitable detention to which it would subject
us, I reluctantly determined to leave it there
for a time. It was of the kind invented by the
French for the mountain part of their war in Algiers;
and the distance it had come with us proved how
well it was adapted to its purpose. We left
it, to the great sorrow of the whole party, who
were grieved to part with a companion which had made
the whole distance from St. Louis, and commanded
respect for us on some critical occasions, and
which might be needed for the same purpose again.

[It is the impression of those of the
old settlers on Walker River, of whom we have
inquired regarding the subject, that the cannon
was found early in the 60’s near the head of
Lost Canyon. This canyon comes into Little
Antelope Valley—­a branch of Antelope
Valley—­from the south. This impression
evidently was accepted by the government geological
surveyors, for they twisted the name of the creek
coming down this canyon to “Lost Cannon
Creek”, and called a peak, which looks down
into this canyon, Lost Cannon Peak. The origin
of the name of this canyon lies in the fact that
an emigrant party, on its way to the Sonora Pass,
and in an endeavor probably to avoid the rough
river canyon down which Fremont came, essayed this
pass instead of the meadows above. It is a
canyon which, at first, promises an easy pass
but finally becomes almost impassable. The
party in question found it necessary to abandon
several of their wagons before they could get over.
They, or another party, buried one of their men
there, also some blacksmith tools. My endeavors
to ascertain what party this was have thus far
not been successful. Mr. Timothy B. Smith,
who went to Walker River in 1859, says that the wagons
were there at that time. The cannon is supposed
to have been found with or near these wagons.
Mr. Richard Watkins, of Coleville, who went into
that section in 1861, or soon after, informs me
that wagons were also found in one of the canyons
leading to the Sonora Pass from Pickle Meadow.
The cannon, according to Mr. Watkins, was found
with these wagons. At any rate, it seems
likely that the cannon was not found at the place
where Fremont left it, but had been picked up by some
emigrant party, who, in turn, were compelled to
abandon it with several of their wagons.]

For several years the cannon remained where its emigrant
finders removed it, then at the breaking out of the
Civil War, “Dan de Quille,” William Wright,
the author of The Big Bonanza, the fellow reporter
of Mark Twain on one of the Virginia City newspapers,

Page 201

called the attention of certain belligerent adherents
of the south to it, and they determined to secure
it. But the loyal sons of the Union were also
alert and Captain A.W. Pray, who was then in the
Nevada mining metropolis, succeeded in getting and
maintaining possession of it. As he moved to
Glenbrook, on Lake Tahoe, that year, he took the cannon
with him. Being mounted on a carriage with fairly
high wheels, these latter were taken and converted
into a hay-wagon, with which, for several years, he
hauled hay from the Glenbrook meadows to his barn
in town. The cannon itself was mounted on a heavy
wooden block to which it was affixed with iron bands,
securely held in place by bolts and nuts. For
years it was used at Glenbrook on all patriotic and
special occasions. Fremont never came back to
claim it. The government made no claim upon it.
So while Captain Pray regarded it as his own it was
commonly understood and generally accepted that it
was town property, to be used by all alike on occasions
of public rejoicing.

After Captain Fray’s death, however, the cannon
was sold by his widow to the Native Sons of Nevada,
and the news of the sale soon spread abroad and caused
no little commotion. To say that the people were
astonished is to put it mildly. They were in a
state of consternation. Fremont’s cannon
sold and going to be removed? Impossible!
No! it was so! The purchasers were coming to
remove it the next day.

Were they? That remained to be seen!

That night in the darkness, three or four determined
men quietly and stealthily removed the nuts from the
bolts, and, leaving the block of wood, quietly carried
the cannon and hid it in a car of scrap-iron that
was to be transported the next day from Glenbrook to
Tahoe City.

When the day dawned and the purchasers arrived, the
cannon was not to be found, and no one, apparently,
knew what had become of it. Solicitations, arguments,
threats had no effect. The cannon was gone.
That was all there was to it, and Mrs. Pray and the
Nevada purchasers had to accept that—­to
them—­disagreeable fact.

But the cannon was not lost. It was only gone
on before. For several years it remained hidden
under the blacksmith shop at Tahoe City, its presence
known only to the few conspirators—­one of
whom was my informant. About five years ago it
was resurrected and ever since then its brazen throat
has bellowed the salutation of the Fourth of July
to the loyal inhabitants of Tahoe. It now stands
on the slight hill overlooking the Lake at Tahoe City,
a short distance east of the hotel.

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE MOUNT ROSE OBSERVATORY

While Californians rightly and justly claim Tahoe
as their own, it must not be forgotten that Nevadans
have an equal claim. In the Nevada State University,
situated at Reno, there is a magnificent band of young
men, working and teaching as professors, who regard
all opportunities as sacred trusts, and who are making
for their university a wonderful record of scientific
achievement for universal benefit.

Page 202

Located on the Nevada side of the Tahoe region line,
at the northeast end of the Lake, is Mount Rose.
It is one of the most salient and important of the
peaks that surround Tahoe, its elevation being 10,800
feet. The professor of Latin in the Nevada University,
James E. Church, Jr., a strenuous nature-lover, a
mountain-climber, gifted with robust physical and
mental health, making the ascent of Mt. Whitney
in March, 1905, was suddenly seized with the idea
that a meteorological observatory could be established
on Mt. Rose, and records of temperature, wind,
snow or rain-fall taken throughout the winter months.
The summit of Mt. Rose by road is approximately
twenty miles in a southwesterly direction from Reno,
and Professor Church and his associates deemed it
near enough for week-end visits. The courage,
energy and robust manliness required to carry the work
along can be appreciated only by those who have gone
over the ground in winter, and forms another chapter
of quiet and unknown heroism in the interest of science
written by so many of our younger western professors
who are not content with mere academic attainment
and distinction.

The idea of obtaining winter temperatures on the mountains
of the Pacific Coast was first suggested by Professor
McAdie, head of the Weather Bureau in San Francisco.[1]
He responded to the request for instruments, and through
his recommendation, thermometers, rain-gauge, etc.,
were speedily forthcoming from the Weather Bureau.
On June 24, 1905, with “Billy” and “Randy,”
family ponies, loaded with a newly designed thermometer-shelter,
constructed so as to withstand winter gales and yet
allow the easy exit of snow, the first advance on Mt.
Rose was made.

From that day the work has been carried on with a
vigor and enthusiasm that are thrilling in their inspiration.
An improved instrument was added that recorded temperatures
on a self-registering roll, all fluctuations, and
the highest and lowest temperatures, wind-pressures,
all variations in humidity, temperature, and air pressure
as well as the directions and the velocity of the
wind for periods of seventy days and more. This
instrument was the achievement of Professor S.P.
Fergusson, for many years a pioneer worker in mountain
meteorology at Blue Hill Observatory and an associate
of Professor Church at the Mount Rose Observatory,
which has now become a part of the University of Nevada.

After two winters’ work it was discovered, on
making comparisons with the records at the Central
Weather Station at Reno, 6268 feet below, that frost
forecast could probably be made on Mt. Rose from
twenty-four to forty-eight hours in advance of the
appearance of the frost in the lower levels, provided
the weather current was traveling in its normal course
eastward from the coast.

[Footnote 1: Since this was written Professor
McAdie has been appointed to the chair of Meteorology
at Harvard University.]

Second only in importance was the discovery and photographic
recording of evidence of the value of timber high up
on mountains, and especially on the lips of canyons,
for holding the snow until late in the season.

Page 203

This latter phase of the Observatory’s work
has developed into a most novel and valuable contribution
to practical forestry and conservation of water, under
Dr. Church’s clear and logical direction.
At Contact Pass, 9000 feet elevation, and at the base
of the mountain, supplementary stations have been
established, where measurements of snow depth and
density, the evaporation of snow, and temperatures
within the snow have been taken. Lake Tahoe, with
its seventy miles of coast line also affords ready
access throughout the winter, by means of motor boat,
snow-shoes and explorer’s camp, to forests of
various types and densities where snow measurements
of the highest importance have been made.

Delicate instruments of measurement and weight, etc.,
have been invented by Dr. Church and his associates
to meet the needs as they have arisen, and continuous
observations for several years seem to justify the
following general conclusions. These are quoted
from a bulletin by Dr. Church, issued by the International
Irrigation Congress.

The conservation of snow is dependent
on mountains and forests and is most complete
where these two factors are combined. The mountain
range is not only the recipient of more snow than
the plain or the valley at its base, but in consequence
of the lower temperature prevailing on its slopes
the snow there melts more slowly.

However, mountains, because of their
elevation, are exposed to the sweep of violent
winds which not only blow the snow in considerable
quantities to lower levels, where the temperature
is higher, but also dissipate and evaporate the
snow to a wasteful degree. The southern slopes,
also, are so tilted as to be more completely exposed
to the direct rays of the sun, and in the Sierra
Nevada and probably elsewhere are subjected to
the persistent action of the prevailing southwest wind.

On the other hand, the mountain mass,
by breaking the force of the wind, causes much
of the drifting snow to pile up on its lee slope
and at the base of its cliffs, where it finds comparative
shelter from the wind and sun.

Forests, also, conserve the snow.
In wind-swept regions, they break the force of
the wind, catching the snow and holding it in
position even on the windward slopes of the mountains.
On the lower slopes, where the wind is less violent,
the forests catch the falling snow directly in
proportion to their openness, but conserve it
after it has fallen directly in proportion to
their density. This phenomenon is due to the
crowns of the trees, which catch the falling snow
and expose it to rapid evaporation in the open
air but likewise shut out the sun and wind from
the snow that has succeeded in passing through
the forest crowns to the ground. Both mountains
and forests, therefore, are to a certain extent
wasters of snow—­the mountains because
they are partially exposed to sun and wind; the
trees, because they catch a portion of the falling

Page 204

snow on their branches and expose it to rapid disintegration.
However, the mountains by their mass and elevation
conserve immeasurably more snow than they waste, and
forested areas conserve far more snow than unforested.
If the unforested mountain slopes can be covered
with timber, much of the waste now occurring on
them can be prevented, and by thinning the denser
forests the source of waste in them also can be
checked.

The experiences met with by the voluntary band of
observers to secure the data needed in their work
are romantic in the extreme. An average winter
trip requires from a day and a half to two days and
a half from Reno. From the base of the mountain
the ascent must be made on snow-shoes. When work
first began there was no building on the summit, and
no shelter station on the way. Imagine these brave
fellows, daring the storms and blizzards and fierce
temperatures of winter calmly ascending these rugged
and steep slopes, in the face of every kind of winter
threat, merely to make scientific observations.
In March, 1906, Professor Johnson and Dr. Rudolph
spent the night at timber-line in a pit dug in the
snow to obtain protection from a gale, at the temperature
of 5 deg. Fahr. below zero, and fought
their way to the summit. But so withering was
the gale at that altitude even at mid-day, that a
precipitate retreat was made to avoid freezing.
The faces of the climbers showed plainly the punishment
received. Three days later Dr. Church attempted
to rescue the record just as the storm was passing.
He made his way in an impenetrable fog to 10,000 feet,
when the snow and ice-crystals deposited by the storm
in a state of unstable equilibrium on crust and trees
were hurled by a sudden gale high into the air in
a blinding blizzard. During his retreat he wandered
into the wildest part of the mountain before he escaped
from the skirts of the storm.

Other experiences read like chapters from Peary’s
or Nansen’s records in the Frozen North, and
they are just as heroic and thrilling. Yet in
face of all these physical difficulties, which only
the most superb courage and enthusiasm could overcome,
Dr. Church writes that, to the spirit, the mountain
reveals itself, at midnight and at noon, at twilight
and at dawn, in storm and in calm, in frost-plume and
in verdure, as a wonderland so remote from the ordinary
experiences of life that the traveler unconsciously
deems that he is entering another world.

In the last days of October, 1913, I was privileged
to make the trip from Reno in the company of Dr. Church,
and two others. We were just ahead of winter’s
storms, however, though Old Boreas raved somewhat
wildly on the summit and covered it with snow a few
hours after our descent. The experience was one
long to be remembered, and the personal touch of the
heroic spirit afforded by the trip will be a permanent
inspiration.

CHAPTER XXXVII

Page 205

LAKE TAHOE IN WINTER[1]

BY DR. J.E. CHURCH, JR., OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NEVADA

[Footnote 1: By courtesy of Sunset magazine.]

Lake Tahoe is an ideal winter resort for the red-blooded.
For the Viking and the near Viking; for the man and
the woman who, for the very exhilaration of it, seek
the bracing air and the snow-clad forests, Lake Tahoe
is as charming in winter as in summer, and far grander.
There is the same water—­in morning placid,
in afternoon foam-flecked, on days of storm tempestuous.
The Lake never freezes; not even a film of ice fringes
its edge. Sunny skies and warm noons and the
Lake’s own restlessness prevent. Emerald
Bay alone is sometimes closed with ice, but more often
it is as open as the outer Lake. Even the pebbles
glisten on the beach as far back as the wash of the
waves extends.

But beyond the reach of the waves a deep mantle of
white clads the forests and caps the distant peaks.
The refuse of the forests, the dusty roads, and the
inequalities of the ground are all buried deep.
A smooth, gently undulating surface of dazzling white
has taken their place.

The forest trees are laden with snow—­each
frond bears its pyramid and each needle its plume
of white. The fresh green of the foliage and the
ruddy brown of the bark are accentuated rather than
subdued by their white setting. But as the eye
travels the long vista of ascending and retreating
forest, the green and the brown of the near-by trees
fade gradually away until the forest becomes a fluffy
mantle of white upon the distant mountain side.
Above and beyond the forest’s utmost reaches
rise the mountain crags and peaks, every angle rounded
into gentle contours beneath its burden of snow.

[Illustration: The Fergusson Metrograph on the
summit of Mt. Rose, wrecked by snow “feathers,”
some of which were six feet long.]

Along the margin of the Lake appear the habitations
and works of men deeply buried and snow-hooded until
they recall the scenes in Whittier’s Snow
Bound.

The lover of the Lake and its bird life will miss
the gulls but will find compensation in the presence
of the wild fowl—­the ducks and the geese—­that
have returned to their winter haunts.

Lake Tahoe is remarkably adapted as a winter resort
for three prime reasons: first, it is easily
accessible; second, no place in the Sierra Nevada,
excepting not even Yosemite, offers so many attractions;
third, it is the natural and easy gateway in winter
to the remote fastnesses of the northern Sierra.

Among the attractions preeminently associated with
Lake Tahoe in winter are boating and cruising, snow-shoeing
and exploring, camping for those whose souls are of
sterner stuff, hunting, mountain climbing, photography,
and the enjoyment of winter landscape. Fishing
during the winter months is prohibited by law.

Page 206

If one asks where to go, a bewildering group of trips
and pleasures appears. But there come forth speedily
from out the number a few of unsurpassed allurement.
These are a ski trip from Tallac to Fallen
Leaf Lake to see the breakers and the spray driven
by a rising gale against the rock-bound shore, and,
when the lake has grown quieter, a boat ride to Fallen
Leaf Lodge beneath the frowning parapets of Mount
Tallac. Next a ski trip up the Glen to
the buried hostelry at Glen Alpine, where one enters
by way of a dormer window but is received to a cheerful
fire and with royal hospitality.

Then under the skillful guidance of the keeper, a
day’s climb up the southern face of Mount Tallac
for an unrivalled panoramic view from its summit and
a speedy but safe glissade back to the hostelry far,
far below.

And if the legs be not too stiff from the glissade,
a climb over the southern wall of the Glen to Desolation
Valley and Pyramid Peak, whence can be seen the long
gorge of the Rubicon. The thousand lakes that
dot this region present no barrier to one’s progress,
for they are frozen over and lie buried deep beneath
the snow that falls here in an abundance hardly exceeded
elsewhere in the Tahoe region.

A close rival of these is the climb from Rubicon Park
up the stately range in its rear to visit the mountain
hemlock, the graceful queen of the high mountain,
and to gaze across the chasm at the twin crags beyond.

And peer of them all, though requiring but little
exertion, is a trip to Brockway to enjoy the unrivalled
view of the “Land’s End” of the
Lake and catch the colors of the pansies that are still
in bloom in a niche of the old sea wall. If one
possess the artist’s mood, he will add thereto
a boat ride round State Line Point in the lazy swell
of the evening sea beneath the silent pine-clad cliffs,
while the moon, as beautiful as any summer moon, rides
overhead. Only the carpet of snow and the film
of ice that gathers from the spray upon the boat keeps
one alive to the reality that the season is winter.

Finally a rowing trip along the western shore of the
Lake with stops at pleasure en route.
One can have weather to suit his taste, for the waters
on this shore are safe in storm, and the barometer
and the sky will give full warning long before the
weather attains the danger point. The man who
loves the breath of the storm and the glow of excitement
will loose his boat from Tallac when the clouds swing
down the canyon and speed forth borne, as it were,
on the wings of the waves toward the distant foot
of the Lake—­past the black water wall where
the waves of Emerald Bay sweep into Tahoe, through
the frothy waters where the wind shifts and whips
around Rubicon Point, over the white caps of Meek’s
Bay until by skillful maneuvering the jutting cape
is weathered and quieter water is found in McKinney
Bay. Full time there is, with the wind astern,
to reach the river’s mouth at Tahoe City, but
the voyager who loves the woodland will tarry for
a night in the dense fir forest of Blackwood, while
his boat rides safely moored to the limb of a prostrate
tree.

Page 207

Regarding the eastern side of the Lake, the bald shore
and jutting headlands, the fewness of the landing
places, and the sweep of the waves make cruising in
these waters a matter of supreme skill and farsightedness.
Let the Viking learn with broad-beamed boat the mastery
of the western shore before he turns his boat’s
prow to the east.

For the man of milder tastes the motorboat will suffice
or the mail steamer, which plies the waters of Lake
Tahoe twice a week.

In tobogganing, the hills and open meadows at Tahoe
City and at Glenbrook will furnish royal sport for
the devotee. Skating and ice-yachting must be
sought in regions where the snow is less deep and
the cold more intense.

Skiing is the chief method of locomotion in
winter at the Lake and the novice soon becomes expert
in the milder forms of the sport. Ski trails
thread the forests at Tahoe City and radiate from
every resort.

The open inns at Tahoe City and Glenbrook, and The
Grove near Tallac and the resorts on Fallen Leaf Lake
insure the traveler’s comfort, while the hospitality
of the caretakers at all of the resorts is proverbial.
The question of when and how to go is naturally a leading
one. During the months of November to April, two
sledging services are furnished each thrice a week—­one
from Carson City to Glenbrook, the other from Truckee
to Tahoe City. (The narrow gauge railway has also
established a semi-weekly winter schedule.) The mail
boat connects with the incoming sledges and train
on Tuesday and Saturday. The route from Carson
City, which crosses the heights of the Carson Range,
affords a superb view of the Lake at sunset. The
route from Truckee traverses the wooded canyon of
the Truckee River, when scenically at its best.

The traveler who approaches the Lake by way of Glenbrook
and leaves by way of the canyon of the Truckee will
have an experience in winter travel both unique and
replete with beautiful landscapes.

The journey from Truckee to the Lake can also be made
on ski in one short day. It is an exhilarating
trip, if one travels light. If one desires to
tarry en route, he may carry his blankets and
food on his back or haul them on a toboggan, and spend
the night at the half-way station, known as Uncle
Billy’s.

The best time to visit the Lake is after the heaviest
of the winter snows have fallen. The period of
steady and heavy precipitation occurs in January.
After this month is past, there are long periods of
settled weather broken only occasionally by storms,
which add to rather than detract from one’s
pleasure.

The special equipment requisite for winter trips to
Tahoe is slight. The list includes goggles (preferably
amber), German socks and rubbers, woolen shirt, sweater,
short heavy coat, and mittens. For mountain climbing
a pair of Canadian snowshoes should be added to the
equipment; for traveling on the level, a pair of ski
can be rented at Truckee or the Lake. If one
desires to camp instead of stopping at the resorts
around the Lake, a tent and waterproof sleeping bag
should be procured.

Page 208

The cost of transportation in winter is scarcely more
than in summer. The sledge trip from either Truckee
or Carson City to the Lake is $2.50, an amount only
$1.00 in excess of the regular fare by rail.
Board will cost no more than in summer.

TRUCKEE

Closely associated with Lake Tahoe as a center for
winter sports is Truckee, the natural point of departure
for the Lake. Here a winter carnival is held
annually for the entertainment of outsiders. Among
the chief sports are ski-racing and jumping
and tobogganing. The toboggan course is two thousand
feet long and has a fall of one-hundred fifty feet.
A device is employed for drawing the toboggans back
to the starting point. The hotel facilities are
ample. Toboggans and ski can be rented
for use here or at the Lake. Clothing and other
winter outfits can be procured. Canadian snow-shoes,
however, must be obtained in San Francisco.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

LAKE TAHOE AS A SUMMER RESIDENCE

One of the most marked differences that the traveler
observes between the noted lakes of Europe and Lake
Tahoe is the comparative dearth of homes, summer villas,
bungalows, residences, on the latter. This is
natural. California and Nevada are new countries.
They have scarcely had time to “find themselves”
fully as yet. It took a thousand years to people
the shores of the European lakes as we find them to-day,
and in due time Tahoe will assuredly come to its own
in this regard. Indeed as John LeConte well wrote
a number of years ago:

The shores of Lake Tahoe afford the
most beautiful sites for summer residences.
When the states of California and Nevada become
more populous, the delicious summer climate of this
elevated region, the exquisite beauty of the surrounding
scenery, and the admirable facilities afforded
for fishing and other aquatic sports, will dot
the shores of this mountain Lake with the cottages
of those who are able to combine health with pleasure.
But it must be remembered that the prolonged severity
of the winter climate, and especially the great depth
of snowfall, render these elevated situations unfit
for permanent residences. According to the
observations of Dr. G.M. Bourne, during the
winter of 1873-74, the aggregate snowfall near
the shores of the Lake amounted to more than thirty-four
feet. In fact, frequently there are not more than
four months in the year in which the ground of
the margin of the Lake is entirely free from snow.
And the vast gorges which furrow the sides of
the surrounding amphitheater of lofty mountain
peaks are perpetually snow-clad. Hence, it
is unreasonable to assume that many persons besides
the wealthy will be able to enjoy the luxury of
private residences here, which can be occupied
only during the summer months of the year. Nevertheless,
when the refinement and taste incident to the development

Page 209

of an older civilization shall have permeated the
minds of the wealthy classes of citizens, this
charming lake region will not only continue to
be the favorite resort of tourists and artists,
but will become, during the summer season, the
abode of families whose abundant means enable them
to enjoy the healthful climate, the gorgeous scenery,
and the invigorating sports which lend an inexpressive
charm to the sojourn on its shores.

Amidst the magnificent nature that surrounds
this region, there should be an inspiration corresponding
more or less with the grandeur of the aspect of
the material world. The modifications impressed
upon the moral and intellectual character of man
by the physical aspects of nature, is a theme
more properly belonging to those who have cultivated
the aesthetic side of humanity. The poet
and the artist can alone appreciate, in the fullness
of their humanizing influence, the potent effects
of these aesthetic inspirations. The lake districts
in all Alpine countries seem to impress peculiar characteristics
upon their inhabitants.

When quietly floating upon the placid
surface of Lake Tahoe, the largest of the “Gems
of the Sierra”—­nestled, as it is,
amidst a huge amphitheater of mountain peaks—­it
is difficult to say whether we are more powerfully
impressed with the genuine childlike awe and wonder
inspired by the contemplation of the noble grandeur
of nature, or with the calmer and more gentle
sense of the beautiful produced by the less imposing
aspects of the surrounding scenery. On the
one hand crag and beetling cliff sweeping in rugged
and colossal massiveness above dark waves of pine
and fir, far into the keen and clear blue air;
the huge mantle of snow, so cumulus-like in its brightness,
thrown in many a solid fold over ice-sculptured crest
and shoulders; the dark cathedral-like spires and
splintered pinnacles, half snow, half stone, rising
into the sky like the very pillars of heaven.
On the other hand the waving verdure of the valleys
below, the dash of waterfalls, the plenteous gush
of springs, the laugh and dance of brook and rivulet
as they hurry down the plains. Add to this
picture the deep repose of the azure water, in
which are mirrored snow-clad peaks, as well as marginal
fringes of waving forests and green meadows, and it
is difficult to decide whether the sense of grandeur
or of beauty has obtained the mastery of the soul.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE TAHOE NATIONAL FOREST

The Tahoe National Forest was first set apart by proclamation,
September 17, 1906. Previous to this there had
been the Tahoe and Yuba Forest Reserves which were
established by proclamation under the acts of March
3, 1891, and June 4, 1897. The original Tahoe
Forest Reserve consisted of six townships along the
west side of Lake Tahoe. Part of this territory
is now in the Tahoe and part in the El Dorado National
Forest. Changes and additions were later made
by proclamations of March 2, 1909, and July 28, 1910.

Page 210

Although Lake Tahoe does not lie within any National
Forest it is almost surrounded by the Tahoe and El
Dorado Forests. There are a few miles of shore-line
on the Nevada side in the vicinity of Glenbrook which
are not within the National Forest Boundary.

The gross area of the Tahoe National Forest is 1,272,470
acres. Of this amount, however, 692,677 acres
are privately owned. The El Dorado National Forest
has a gross area of 836,200 acres with 284,798 of them
in private hands. These privately owned lands
are technically spoken of as “alienated lands.”

The towns of Truckee, Emigrant Gap, Cisco, Donner,
Fulda, Downieville, Sierra City, Alleghany, Forest,
Graniteville, Goodyear’s Bar, and Last Chance,
as well as Tahoe City, are all within the Tahoe National
Forest.

It is estimated that there are probably 350 people
living on the Forest outside of the towns. These
are principally miners or small ranch-owners living
along the rivers in the lower altitudes.

Slowly but surely the people are awakening to the
great value of the natural resources that are being
conserved in the National Forests. In the Tahoe
Reserve the preservation of the forest cover is essential
to the holding of snow and rain-fall, preventing rapid
run-off, thereby conserving much of what would be
waste and destructive flood-water, until it
can be used for irrigation and other beneficial purposes.

Many streams of great power possibilities rise and
flow through the Tahoe Forest Reserve, such as the
Truckee, Little Truckee, Yuba and American rivers.
Working in conjunction with the U.S. Reclamation
Service the Truckee General Electric Company uses the
water that flows out of Lake Tahoe down the Truckee
River for the development of power. The Pacific
Gas and Electric Company, of San Francisco, controls
the waters of the South Yuba river, and its Colgate
plant is on the main Yuba, though it obtains some
of its water supply from the North Yuba. Lake
Spaulding, one of the largest artificial lakes in the
world, is a creation of this same company. It
is situated near Emigrant Gap and is used for the
development of power.

The Northern Water and Power Company controls the
Bowman reservoir and a string of lakes on the headwaters
of Canyon Creek, a branch of the South Yuba river.
As yet its power possibilities are not developed.

Through the activities of these companies electricity
and water for irrigation are supplied to towns and
country regions contiguous to their lines, and they
have materially aided in the development of the Sacramento
Valley.

Page 211

Only about five per cent. of the Reserve is barren
land, and this is mostly situated at a high elevation
above timber line. The tree growth is excellent,
and under proper direction reproduction could
be made all that any one could desire. Fully
twenty per cent., however, of the present Reserve
is covered with chaparral. Practically all of
this originally was timbered. The chaparral has
grown up because nothing was done at the proper time
to foster reproduction over acres that had been cut.
Systematic and scientific efforts are now being made
to remedy this condition, the rangers being encouraged
to study the trees, gather seeds from the best of
their type, plant and cultivate them. Tree cutting
is now so regular as to obtain by natural reproduction
a second crop on the logged-over areas. Where
natural reproduction fails planting is resorted to.
Thus it is hoped, in time, to replant all the logged-over
areas now owned by the government, serving the double
purpose of conserving the water-supply and providing
timber for the needs of the future. Much of the
timber-land, however, of the Tahoe region, is patented
to private owners. Little, if anything, is being
done towards reforestation on these private tracts.
Legal enactments, ultimately, may produce effective
action along this needed line.

As has elsewhere been shown the world owes a debt
of gratitude to the Tahoe region. Had it not
been for the timber secured so readily from the Tahoe
slopes the mining operations of Virginia City, Gold
Hill and Dayton would have been seriously retarded
and crippled. As it was the Tahoe trees were
transferred as mining-timbers for propping up the
immense and continuous excavations of that vast series
of honey-combings underground, the products of which
revivified the gold supply of the world.

Tahoe timber also has contributed much to the upbuilding
of the towns and country farms on the whole upper
Pacific Coast and interior regions of Northern California,
and today much of its timber finds its way to San
Francisco and other Pacific Coast markets.

At Floriston, on the Truckee River, a mill is in successful
operation, using Tahoe fir for the making of paper.
Red and white fir, which are practically useless for
lumber, are found to make excellent wrapping and tissue
papers, and thus, from being unremunerative products
of our forests, become sources of income. After
planing off the bark, the wood is made into small
chips, about a half inch square, and an eighth of
an inch thick. These chips are then “digested”
by a process of mixing with acids and cooking, through
which it becomes “wood pulp.” Different
processes produce different pulps, two of which are
mixed together, allowed to flow out on a very fine
wire screen nine feet wide, revolving at a rate of
300 feet a minute, with a “jigging” movement
from side to side. This makes all the fibers lie
flat. They are then sent through steel rollers,
the water squeezed out, and finally carried over and
around twenty-five revolving steam-heated cylinders
which completely dry the paper and put the needed gloss
or finish on it.

Page 212

The rainfall on the Tahoe Reserve averages about fifty
inches annually, the most frequent rains occurring
between October and May. Necessarily there is
much snow-fall on the higher regions. Further
down the snow disappears in the early spring, say March,
but in the upper altitudes it remains until late June,
with perpetual snow in the sheltered portions of the
topmost peaks.

Agriculture, owing to the average high altitude, is
a negligible industry in the Reserve, little more
being done than to raise a little fruit, grain and
vegetables, mainly for home consumption. Naturally
there is a fair amount of grazing, almost the whole
area of the Reserve being used for this purpose during
the summer months. Many portions of meadow-land
are used for dairy-herds, most of the hotels and resorts
on and near Lake Tahoe having their own herds and meadows.
Bands of beef-cattle are also pastured, together with
large bands of sheep, the two kinds of stock often
grazing in common, the cattle using the meadows and
the sheep the ridges and timber-lands. In taking
the trail-rides described in other chapters I invariably
came across both cattle and sheep, and all the near-by
meadows are occupied by the dairy-herds belonging
to the hotels. Patented lands of private ownership
within the bounds of the Forest are often also leased
to cattle- and sheep-men. Last year it was estimated
that there were 47,000 head of sheep, and about 6000
head of cattle on the Reserve. Under the protection
of the rangers grazing conditions are rapidly improving,
the cattle- and sheep-men being held strictly to certain
rules laid down by the Supervisor. Systematic
efforts are made to rid the Forest, as far as possible,
of predatory animals that kill the sheep, also of
poisonous plants which render grazing dangerous.

There are far less cattle on the Sierra ranges in
the Tahoe region than there are sheep. During
the summer most of the mountain valleys have their
great sheep-bands. Many are brought over from
Nevada, and far more from the Sacramento Valley and
other regions near the Pacific. The feed, as
a rule, is good and abundant from the time the snow
leaves until the end of September or even later.
Though the year 1913 was the third dry season (comparatively
speaking) the region had suffered, I found a score
or more of meadows in my rambles around Tahoe, where
thousands of sheep might have had rich and abundant
pasture.

But well may John Muir dislike sheep in his beloved
Sierras, and term them in his near-to-hatred “the
locusts of the mountains.” When the most
fertile valley has been “fed off” by sheep,
or they have “bedded down” night after
night upon it, it takes some time before the young
growth comes up again.

It is the custom when the lambing season is over,
and the lambs are strong enough to travel and old
enough to ship, to move to some convenient point on
the railway, where there is an abundance of feed and
water on the way, and there ship either to Reno, Carson
and Virginia City, or to some market on the Pacific
Coast. Hence overland travelers on the Southern
Pacific trains are often surprised to see vast flocks
of sheep and hear the bleating of the lambs at unlooked
for stations at the highest points of the Sierra Nevada,
as at Soda Springs, Cisco, Emigrant Gap, Blue Canyon,
or sidings on the way.

Page 213

There is a large mining industry within the Reserve.
Since 1849 the western part of the Forest has been
most active, one county, Sierra, having produced since
then upwards of $200,000,000. The present output
is much smaller than formerly, still it is large enough
to render mining an important factor in the productive
wealth of the state. In 1853 hydraulic mining
was inaugurated near Nevada City. This gave renewed
interest to placer-mining.

Four of the old emigrant roads cross the Tahoe and
El Dorado Reserves. The most famous of these
is the one across Donner Pass and through Emigrant
Gap. This was the general course taken by the
unfortunate Donner Party, as recorded in another chapter.

Another road was the Heuness Pass road, on a branch
of which was Nigger Tent, a rendezvous of robbers
and cutthroats in the early days. Prospectors
and miners were often robbed and murdered at this place.
The Heuness Pass Road and the Donner Road branch in
Sardine Valley, the former going through by Webber
Lake, and the latter through the present site of Truckee.
On the latter road, in the vicinity of You Bet, is
a large tree which bears the name “Fremont’s
Flagpole,” though it is doubtful whether it
was ever used by Fremont for this purpose.

The third important road is the present Placerville
Road,—­a portion of the State Highway and
the great trans-continental Lincoln Highway, elsewhere
described.

The fourth is the Amador Grade Road, on which stood
the tree whereupon Kit Carson carved his name.

The Georgetown Road is an important and historic feature
of the Tahoe Region, for it connects Georgetown with
Virginia City, and it was from the former place so
many Tahoe pioneers came. I have already referred
to the trail built in the early 60’s. Then
when the Georgetown miners constructed a ditch to
convey water for mining purposes from Loon Lake, they
soon thereafter, about ’72 or ’73, built
a road about forty miles long, to enable them to reach
the Lake, which was their main reservoir. Loon,
Pleasant and Bixby’s Lakes were all dammed and
located upon for the water company.

When the Hunsakers built the road from McKinney’s
to their Springs in 1883 there was a stretch of only
about seven miles from Loon Lake to the Springs to
complete a road between Lake Tahoe and Georgetown.
The matter was laid before the Supervisors of Placer
and El Dorado Counties, and they jointly built the
road in 1884, following as nearly as possible the
old Georgetown trail, which was practically the boundary
between the two counties.

While automobiles have gone over it, it is scarcely
good enough for that form of travel, but cattle, sheep
and horses are driven over it constantly, campers
make good use of it in the summer, and though it has
not the activity of the days when it was first built,
it has fully justified its existence by the comfort
and convenience it gives to the sparsely settled population
of the region for which the waters of the Reserve
were flumed in every direction. When legal enactment
practically abolished placer mining, owing to its ruining
the agricultural lands lower down by the carrying
of the mud and silt upon them, the water systems were
utilized for domestic and irrigation purposes, thus
laying the foundation of the great systems now being
used for power purposes.

Page 214

One of the greatest excitements known in the Tahoe
region occurred when the first notice of the discovery
of the Comstock lode in Virginia City appeared in
the Nevada City Journal, July 1, 1859.
Immediately the whole country was aroused, fully one-third
of all the male population setting forth for the mines.
This was also one of the great urgents in the building
of a railway which soon ultimated in the Central Pacific.

There are several mineral springs of note on the Forest,
chief of which are Deer Park Springs, Glen Alpine
Springs and Brockway’s.

The most northern grove of Big Trees, Sequoia Gigantea,
in existence, is found in the Tahoe Forest, on the
Forest Hill Divide, near the southern boundary of
Placer County, on a tributary of the Middle Fork of
the American River. There are six of these trees
as well as several which have fallen.

Dotted over the Reserve are cabins of the rangers.
These men live a most interesting, and sometimes adventurous
and daring life. Primarily their days and nights
are largely those of solitude, and it is interesting
to throw a little light upon the way they spend their
time.

Necessarily their chief thought and care is that of
protecting the Forest from fire. To accomplish
this end fire-brakes—­wide passages, trails,
or roads—­are cut through the trees and brush,
so that it is possible to halt a fire when it reaches
one of the constant patrols and watches that are maintained.
Lookout stations are placed on elevated points.
In the fall of 1911 a Lookout Tower was erected on
Banner Mountain, four miles southeast of Nevada City,
in which a watchman with a revolving telescope is
on duty day and night. This mountain is at 3900
feet elevation and affords an unobstructed view of
about one-third of the whole area of the Tahoe Forest.

[Illustration: Outlet of Lake Tahoe, Truckee
River]

[Illustration: Flock of Sheep Being Driven from
the Tahoe National Forest]

[Illustration: Island Park, Lake Tahoe]

By a system of maps, sights and signals the location
of fires can be determined with reasonable accuracy,
and the telephone enables warnings to be sent to all
concerned.

Telephone lines bisect the Reserve in several directions,
and fire-fighting appliances are cached in
accessible places ready for immediate use. When
a Forest officer is notified of the approximate location
of a fire he goes immediately with what help he thinks
he needs. If he finds that the fire is larger
than he can handle with the available force at his
command, he notifies the Supervisor, who secures men
from the most practical point and dispatches them
to the fire as soon as possible, by automobile or
train.

Page 215

To give further fire protection a gasoline launch—­the
Ranger—­twenty-six feet long and with
a carrying capacity of fifteen men, and a speed of
about nine miles an hour, was placed on Lake Tahoe
in 1910, at the Kent Ranger Station, located a mile
below the Tavern. The guard who is in charge
of this boat is on the Lake about eight hours each
day, going up the Lake in the morning towards Tallac
and taking the northern end of the Lake in the afternoon.
The launch is put in service each year about the 15th
of June and kept there until the fire-danger is over
in the fall. Normal years this is about the 15th
of September, but in 1913 the launch remained and the
patrolman was on duty much later.

If the guard sights a fire anywhere within the watershed
of Lake Tahoe, he immediately obtains men at the nearest
point and proceeds to the fire. Since the launch
has been on the Lake there have been no serious fires.
Every fire has been caught in its infancy and put out
before any damage has been done. There has been
only one fire of any size on the Lake since the launch
was installed. This burned about 20 acres just
east of Brockway. Numerous small fires of an acre
or less have been put out each year.

The Forest Guard in charge of the launch for the years
1912-13 was Mark W. Edmonds. Mr. Edmonds is the
son of Dr. H.W. Edmonds, who is now in the Arctic
doing scientific work for the Carnegie Institute.

The force of men at work on the Reserve varies in
number according to the season of the year. When
the fire-season is on many more men are on duty than
in the winter-season. The year-long force consists
of the Supervisor, Deputy Supervisor, Forest Clerk,
Stenographer, thirteen Rangers and two Forest Examiners
who are Forest School men engaged chiefly on timber
sale and investigative work. The force in 1913
during the season of greatest danger was fifty-six.
Some of the temporary employees are engaged for six
months, some for three months and others for shorter
periods. The longer termed men are generally
Assistant Rangers who cannot be employed the year around,
but who are considered first for permanent jobs that
occur on the statutory roll on account of their Civil
Service standing.

Forest fires are caused in a variety of ways, but
chiefly through inexcusable carelessness. Now
and then lightning produces fire, but the throwing
down of lighted matches by smokers, the butt ends of
cigars and cigarettes that are still alight, leaving
camp-fires unextinguished, or building them too large,
allowing fires for burning waste land or brush to
get from under control—­these are the chief
sources of forest fires. Accordingly the local
and federal authorities constantly keep posted on
Forest Reserves notices calling attention to the dangers
and urging care upon all who use the forests for any
purpose whatever.

Page 216

In addition to fire-fighting the rangers are required
to give constant oversight to the sheep- and cattle-ranges,
and to the animals that are brought there, so that
the feed is not eaten out, or too many head pastured
upon a given area. Seeds of forest trees must
be gathered at the proper season and experiments in
reforestation conducted, besides a certain amount
of actual planting-out performed. The habits of
seed-eating birds and animals are studied, especially
in relation to reforestation. A very small number
of squirrels or mice can get away with a vast number
of seeds in a season. Methods of protecting the
seeds without destroying too many of the wild animals
must be devised.

Available areas of timber are sought for and offered
for sale. Certain men are detailed to measure
the trees and determine the value of the timber; they
must mark the trees included in the sale, leaving out
enough seed-trees for satisfactory reproduction.
If it be a second sale over a cut-over area the problems
are somewhat altered. Will the trees that are
left suffer from wind-fall? If partially suppressed
trees are left can they be depended upon to recover
and make a good growth?

Then, too, the questions of natural versus
artificial reforestation have to be scientifically
studied and exhaustive tests made. Shall seeds
be sown, or shall young trees be planted? Which
trees are best suited for certain localities, and which
are the more profitable when grown?

To many people it is not known that dwellers in or
near National Forests can obtain free of charge timber
for their domestic needs. The rangers determine
where this “free area” shall be located,
exactly what trees, whether dead or alive, shall be
taken, and endeavor to lay down rules that shall give
equal chances for all comers.

As one of the mottos of the Forest Service is “the
greatest good to the greatest number,” small
sales are encouraged to those who wish to make their
own lumber or shakes. Settlers in remote localities
are often helped in this manner.

Cases of trespass have to be guarded against, and
now and again suits have had to be brought against
loggers for encroaching upon the territory of the
Reserve, and removing timber which they had not purchased.

In 1911 every District Ranger was appointed a Deputy
Fish and Game Commissioner and thus was duly authorized
to enforce the law in regard to fish and game.

Another subject of interest and importance to the
ranger is the study of insect infestation. Many
trees are killed annually by certain insects, and
these must be discovered and their devastation prevented.

Then, too, there are diseases and parasites that affect
the trees, and this branch of study demands constant
attention.

Hence it will be seen that the office of the Forest
Ranger is by no means a sinecure. He works hard
and he works long and alone and our kindly thoughts
should go out to him in his solitary patrols and vigils.

Page 217

The present Supervisor of the Tahoe Forest is Richard
L.P. Bigelow, to whose kindness I am indebted
for much of the information contained in this chapter.

CHAPTER XL

PUBLIC USE OF THE WATERS OF LAKE TAHOE

There has always been considerable discussion and
dissension among conflicting interests as to the use
of the waters of Lake Tahoe for private or semi-public
uses, and, finally, in 1903 the U.S. Reclamation
Service entered into the field. At my request
Mr. D.W. Cole, engineer-in-charge of the Truckee-Carson
project, kindly furnishes the following data:

Along in the 60’s of the last
century the region around the Lake acquired great
importance on account of the fine growth of timber
on the surrounding mountain slopes. It is said
that a great many million feet of lumber were
harvested in this region. For many years
the entire lumber supply for the old Comstock
mines was derived from this source. Virginia City,
Carson City and the neighboring mining communities
were built from the timber of the Lake Tahoe basin,
and it might be said that the foundation of the
fortunes of the California gold kings, who developed
the Comstock mines, was made of the pine wood
which grew upon the shores of Lake Tahoe, without
which that wonderful output of $700,000,000 of
gold from the Comstock lode would have been impossible.

Supplementing the timber supply the
water from Marlette Lake, a tributary to Lake
Tahoe, was diverted by a remarkable engineering
achievement for supplying Virginia City and the deep
mines. Marlette Lake lies several hundred feet
above Lake Tahoe on the Nevada side, and half
a century ago its waters were taken through flume,
tunnel and pipe line across the dividing mountain
range and out into the desert valley of the Carson
River for sustaining the gold seekers of Virginia
City. This work of the pioneer engineers
was scarcely less bold in its conception and wonderful
in its execution than the famous Sutro tunnel which
drains the underground waters from the Comstock
mines.

About 1870 the first use of Lake Tahoe
for other than navigation purposes was made by
building a log crib dam at the outlet for the
purpose of storing flood-waters to be used in log-driving
in the Truckee River below the Lake.

The outlet of the Lake was in a land
grant section belonging to the Central Pacific
Railway Company, and one of the earlier lumber
companies procured a charter from the State of
California and proceeded to build a dam and operate
it for log-driving purposes.

In the course of time the development
of water-power in the Truckee River below the
Lake became of considerable importance, both for
saw-mill and other manufacturing purposes.
The dam at the Lake’s outlet was passed from
the possession of the Donner Boom & Lumber Company
into the hands of other interests who were making

Page 218

a larger use of power.

Eventually, in the last decade of the
century, the water-power plants were converted
into hydro-electric plants and began to furnish
electric current for power and lighting in the city
of Reno and as far south as Virginia City.

About the year 1908 the ownership of
the several hydroelectric plants was passed to
the Truckee River General Electric Company, under
the management of the Stone & Webster Engineering
Corporation, of Boston, one of the very large public
utilities corporations of the country.

This company has enlarged and improved
the plants and is now furnishing a large amount
of electric current for all purposes in Reno,
Virginia City, Carson City, Yerington, Thompson, Minden
and various other towns and mining camps in the State
of Nevada, forming a group of communities which
are wholly dependent upon this power for their
various purposes.

In 1903 the United States Reclamation
Service filed an appropriation of all surplus
waters which had theretofore gone to waste from
Lake Tahoe, and under this appropriation, with others
covering waters in the Carson River, the Truckee-Carson
Reclamation Project in Nevada was commenced.

By this irrigation project it is proposed
to cover an area of about 206,000 acres, of which
35,000 acres are now being irrigated and about
500 families have their homes upon productive
lands, which were formerly a part of the great desert
which was traversed with much suffering by the pioneer
gold seekers.

In 1908 the Reclamation Service entered
into negotiations for the purchase of the real
estate and dam controlling the outlet of Lake
Tahoe, but before the purchase was concluded the reorganized
power company secured possession of the property.
A condemnation suit was then brought by the United
States to acquire possession and control of the
Lake’s outlet. A contract was entered
into with the power company for the joint building
of a new dam with gates for controlling the outlet
from the Lake. This dam was partly built in
1909, replacing a portion of the old timber structure.
Owing to various complications this new cement
dam has stood in an uncomplete condition until
the fall of 1913 when arrangements were made for
its completion, and now the structure is entirely done
and is well adapted to control the outlet from
the Lake so as to hold the waters at satisfactory
levels according to the various uses for which
the water is required.

There have been confusing statements
made in the public press and otherwise concerning
the intentions and actions of the Reclamation
Service and of the power company. The gist of
the whole matter is that both the Reclamation Service
and the power company have proposed by means of
the new dam to regulate the Lake within a range
of six feet vertically, this being well within
the limits of fluctuations which have occurred

Page 219

during the past 40 years when the Lake has been partially
controlled by means of the old logging dam, and during
which period the navigation and resort interests have
taken the place of the lumber business in the commercial
aspects of the Lake.

The records show that during these 40
years the Lake has fluctuated to the extent of
a little more than eight feet between low and
high water marks. The landowners around the
Lake are principally interested in its esthetic
qualities as a basis for the commercial interests
involved in the tourist traffic and summer resort
business. These interests would naturally
desire the Lake to be held at a fixed level.

Likewise the navigation interests which
operate a large number of boats of various sizes
would be best pleased with a stationary level
of the Lake, in order that their wharves and boat
routes might be built and maintained for a single level
of the water.

On the other hand the natural conditions
and the use of water for power and irrigation,
which are among the older vested rights, require
the Lake to be used to some extent as a storage
reservoir, which implies a fluctuating level.

The whole problem is to reconcile these
various interests so as to derive the greatest
possible economic advantages while maintaining
the great beauties of the Lake for those whose interests
lie mainly in that direction.

There has been suspicion on the part
of some of the riparian owners that either the
power company or the Government, or both, have
been entertaining ulterior motives with the purpose
of drawing down the Lake to unprecedented levels
and of extracting from the Lake an amount of water
greater than the average annual inflow. It
may be stated once for all that there has never
been such a purpose and that all calculations of
the available water in the Lake have been based upon
a long record of seasonable fluctuations which
prove that the average annual outflow from the
Lake is about 300,000 acre feet.

All plans have contemplated
the use of only this average
amount of water annually.

The Lake has an area of 193
square miles. The elevation of its
high-water mark has been at
6231.3, whereas its low-water mark
is recorded at elevation 6223.1
above sea level.

Should the Government be successful
in acquiring the outlet property from the power
company by the condemnation suit now in court,
it is proposed to operate the gates of the dam at
all times so as to maintain the Lake at the highest
level consistent with the maintenance of a desirable
shore-line and the conservation of water for the
public utilities. It is proposed never to
draw the Lake below the previous low-water mark or
to allow it to rise as high as the previous high-water
mark, at which low and high limits damage in some
degree was done to one or another’s interests

Page 220

at the Lake.

The regulation proposed by the Government
provides for recognition and protection of all
rights in and to the waters and shores of Lake
Tahoe, including the rights of the general public
and of the lovers of natural beauty everywhere, and
it is believed that the charms, as well as the
utilities, of this paragon of lakes can more safely
be entrusted to a permanent government agency
than to any single private interest.

A few additions to Mr. Cole’s lucid statement
will help the general reader to a fuller comprehension
of the difficulty as between the States of Nevada
and California. It will be recalled that Lake
Tahoe has an area of about 193 square miles, of which
78 square miles are in the counties of Washoe, Ormsby
and Douglas, Nevada, the remaining 115 square miles
being in Placer and El Dorado Counties, California.

Because of this fact, that nearly two-thirds of the
superficial area of the Lake is in California, the
people of California claim that they have the natural
and inherent right to control, even to determining
of its disposal at least nearly two-thirds of the
water of the Lake.

The situation, however, is further complicated by
the fact that the only outlet to the Lake is in California
near Tahoe City, in Placer County, into the Truckee
River, which meanders for some miles in a northeasterly
course until it leaves California, enters Nevada, passes
through the important city of Reno, and finally empties
into Pyramid Lake, which practically has no outlet.

In response to the claim of California, the people
of Nevada, in which it appears they are backed up
by the U.S. Reclamation Service, contend that
Nature has already determined whither the overflow
waters of Lake Tahoe shall go. That, while they
do not wish in the slightest to restrict the proper
use of the waters of the Truckee River by the dwellers
upon that river, they insist that no one else is entitled
to their use, and that every drop of superfluous water,
legally and morally, belongs to them, to be used as
they deem proper.

In accordance with this conception of their rights
the Nevada legislature passed the following act, which
was approved, March 6, 1913:

That for the purpose of aiding the Truckee-Carson
reclamation project now being carried out by the
Reclamation Service of the United States of America,
under the Act of Congress approved June 17, 1902
(32 Stat. p. 384), known as the Reclamation Act,
and acts amendatory thereof or supplementary thereto,
consent is hereby given to the use by the United States
of America of Lake Tahoe, situated partly in the State
of California and partly in the State of Nevada,
and the waters, bed, shores and capability of
use for reservoir purposes thereof, in such manner
and to such extent as the United States of America
through its lawful agencies shall think proper
for such purpose, and as fully as the State of Nevada

Page 221

could use the same, provided, however, that the consent
hereby given is without prejudice to any existing
rights that persons or corporations may have in
Lake Tahoe or the Truckee River.

At the present time (winter of 1914-15) the matter
is in the courts awaiting adjudication, which it is
to be hoped, while being satisfactory to all parties
to the suit, will fully conserve for the scenic enjoyment
of the world all the charms for which Tahoe has been
so long and so justly famous.

APPENDIX

CHAPTER A

MARK TWAIN AT LAKE TAHOE

Early in the ’sixties the immortal Mark made
his mark at Lake Tahoe. In his Roughing It,
he devotes Chapters XXII and XXIII to the subject.
With the kind consent of his publishers, Harper Bros,
of New York, the following extracts are presented.

Later, when in Italy, he described Lake Como and compared
it with Tahoe in Innocents Abroad, and while
his prejudices against the Indians led him to belittle
the Indian name—­Tahoe—­and in
so doing to make several errors of statement, the
descriptions are excellent and the interested reader
is referred to them as being well worthy his attention.

Chapter XXII, Roughing It.—­We
had heard a world of talk about the marvelous
beauty of Lake Tahoe, and finally curiosity drove
us thither to see it. Three or four members of
the Brigade[1] had been there and located some
timber lands on its shores and stored up a quantity
of provisions in their camp. We strapped
a couple of blankets on our shoulders and took
an ax apiece and started—­for we intended
to take up a wood ranch or so ourselves and become
wealthy. We were on foot. The reader
will find it advantageous to go on horseback.
We were told that the distance was eleven miles.
We tramped a long time on level ground, and then
toiled laboriously up a mountain about a thousand
miles high and looked over. No lake there.
We descended on the other side, crossed the valley
and toiled up another mountain three or four thousand
miles high, apparently, and looked over again.
No lake yet. We sat down tired and perspiring,
and hired a couple of Chinamen to curse those
people who had beguiled us. Thus refreshed,
we presently resumed the march with renewed vigor
and determination. We plodded on, two or three
hours longer, and at last the Lake burst upon
us—­a noble sheet of blue water lifted
six thousand three hundred feet above the level
of the sea, and walled in by a rim of snowclad mountain
peaks that towered aloft full three thousand feet
higher still! It was a vast oval, and one
would have to use up eighty or a hundred good
miles in traveling around it. As it lay there
with the shadows of the mountains brilliantly photographed
upon its still surface I thought it must surely be
the fairest picture the whole earth affords.

Page 222

[Footnote 1: The “Brigade” to which
the distinguished humorist here refers was a company
of fourteen camp-followers of the Governor of Nevada,
who boarded at the same house as Mark, that of Mrs.
O’Flannigan. They had joined the Governor’s
retinue “by their own election at New York and
San Francisco, and came along, feeling that in the
scuffle for little territorial crumbs and offices they
could not make their condition more precarious than
it was, and might reasonably expect to make it better.
They were popularly known as the ‘Irish Brigade,’
though there were only four or five Irishmen among
them.”]

... After supper as the darkness
closed down and the stars came out and spangled
the great mirror with jewels, we smoked meditatively
in the solemn hush and forgot our troubles and our
pains. In due time we spread our blankets in the
warm sand between two large bowlders and soon
fell asleep.... The wind rose just as we
were losing consciousness, and we were lulled to
sleep by the beating of the surf upon the shore.

It is always very cold on that Lake
shore in the night, but we had plenty of blankets
and were warm enough. We never moved a muscle
all night, but waked at early dawn in the original
positions, and got up at once thoroughly refreshed,
free from soreness, and brim full of friskiness.
There is no end of wholesome medicine in such
an experience. That morning we could have
whipped ten such people as we were the day before—­sick
ones at any rate. But the world is slow, and
people will go to “water cures” and
“movement cures” and to foreign lands
for health. to Three months of camp life on Lake
Tahoe would restore an Egyptian mummy to his pristine
vigor, and give him an appetite like an alligator.
I do not mean the oldest and driest mummies, of
course, but the fresher ones. The air up there
in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and
delicious. And why shouldn’t it be?—­It
is the same the angels breathe. I think that
hardly any amount of fatigue can be gathered together
that a man cannot sleep off in one night on the sand
by its side. Not under a roof, but under the
sky; it seldom or never rains there in the summer
time.

... Next morning while smoking
the pipe of peace after breakfast we watched the
sentinel peaks put on the glory of the sun, and
followed the conquering light as it swept down among
the shadows, and set the captive crags and forests
free. We watched the tinted pictures grow
and brighten upon the water till every little
detail of forest, precipice, and pinnacle was
wrought in and finished, and the miracle of the enchanter
complete. Then to “business.”

That is, drifting around in the boat.
We were on the north shore. There, the rocks
on the bottom are sometimes gray, sometimes white.
This gives the marvelous transparency of the water
a fuller advantage than it has elsewhere on the Lake.
We usually pushed out a hundred yards or so from

Page 223

the shore, and then lay down on the thwarts in
the sun, and let the boat drift by the hour whither
it would. We seldom talked. It interrupted
the Sabbath stillness, and marred the dreams the luxurious
rest and indolence brought. The shore all along
was indented with deep, curved bays and coves,
bordered by narrow sand-beaches; and where the
sand ended, the steep mountain-sides rose right
up aloft into space—­rose up like a
vast wall a little out of the perpendicular, and thickly
wooded with tall pines.

So singularly clear was the water, that
where it was only twenty or thirty feet deep the
bottom was so perfectly distinct that the boat
seemed floating in the air! Yes, where it
was even eighty feet deep. Every little
pebble was distinct, every speckled trout, every
hand’s-breadth of sand. Often, as we
lay on our faces, a granite bowlder, as large as a
village church, would start out of the bottom apparently,
and seem climbing up rapidly to the surface, till
presently it threatened to touch our faces, and
we could not resist the impulse to seize an oar
and avert the danger. But the boat would
float on, and the bowlder descend again, and then we
could see that when we had been exactly above it,
it must have been twenty or thirty feet below
the surface. Down through the transparency
of these great depths, the water was not merely
transparent, but dazzlingly, brilliantly so. All
objects seen through it had a bright, strong vividness,
not only of outline, but of every minute detail,
which they would not have had when seen simply
through the same depth of atmosphere. So
empty and airy did all spaces seem below us, and
so strong was the sense of floating high aloft in
mid-nothingness, that we called these boat-excursions
“balloon-voyages.”

We fished a good deal, but we did not
average one fish a week. We could see trout
by the thousand winging about in the emptiness
under us, or sleeping in shoals on the bottom, but
they would not bite—­they could see the
line too plainly, perhaps. We frequently
selected the trout we wanted, and rested the bait
patiently and persistently on the end of his nose
at a depth of eighty feet, but he would only shake
it off with an annoyed manner, and shift his position.[1]

[Footnote 1: These extracts are made from Mark
Twain’s copyrighted works by especial arrangement
with his publishers, Harper & Bros., New York.]

CHAPTER B

MARK TWAIN AND THE FOREST RANGERS

In a quarterly magazine published solely for the Rangers
of the Tahoe Reserve, one of the Rangers thus “newspaperizes”
Mark’s experiences in two different sketches,
one as it was in 1861 “before” the establishment
of the Reserve, and the other as it would be “now.”

AS IT WAS IN 1861

Page 224

Extract from January Harper’s.—­Mark
Twain heard that the timber around Lake Bigler
(Tahoe) promised vast wealth which could be had
for the asking. He decided to locate a timber
claim on its shores. He went to the Lake with
a young Ohio lad, staked out a timber claim, and
made a semblance of fencing it and of building
a habitation, to comply with the law. They
did not sleep in the house, of which Mark Twain says:
“It never occurred to us for one thing, and besides,
it was built to hold the ground, and that was
enough. We did not wish to strain it.”

They lived by their camp-fire on the
borders of the Lake and one day—­it
was just at nightfall—­it got away from them,
fired the Forest, and destroyed their fence and
habitation. His picture of the superb night
spectacle—­the mighty mountain conflagration—­is
splendidly vivid.

“The level ranks of flame were
relieved at intervals by the standard-bearers,
as we called the tall dead trees, wrapped in fire,
and waving their blazing banners a hundred feet in
the air. Then we could turn from the scene
to the Lake and see every branch and leaf, and
cataract of flame upon its banks perfectly reflected,
as in a gleaming, fiery mirror. The mighty
roaring of the conflagration, together with our solitary
and somewhat unsafe position (for there was no one
within six miles of us), rendered the scene very
impressive.”

AS IT WOULD BE NOW

Press Dispatch,—­August
15, 1912.

MARK TWAIN FIRES FOREST! !
!

NOTED HUMORIST CHARGED BY
FOREST OFFICERS WITH CRIMINAL
CARELESSNESS

Mark Twain and a friend from Ohio, who
have been camping on Lake Tahoe, are responsible
for a Forest fire which burned over about 200
acres before it was checked by Forest officers.
The fire was sighted at 6 o’clock P.M. by one
of the cooeperative patrolmen of the Crown Columbia
Paper Company, who at once telephoned to the tender
of the Launch ‘Ranger’ for help.
Within an hour the launch was on the scene with a dozen
men picked up at Tahoe City, and by 10 o’clock
the fire was practically under control.

Twain and his friend were found spell-bound
by the Rangers, at the impressiveness of the fire.
After fighting it for several hours, however,
its grandeur palled upon them, and at the present
time they are considerably exercised inasmuch as it
was ascertained that the fire was a result of their
carelessness in leaving a camp-fire to burn unattended.
It is extremely likely that the well-known humorist
will find the penalty attendant to his carelessness,
no “joking” matter.

To which I take the liberty of adding the following:

SUBSEQUENT PROCEEDINGS

From the Nevada City Bulletin,
Sept. 6, 1912.

Page 225

Samuel L. Clemens (popularly known as
Mark Twain), together with Silas Snozzlebottom,
of Columbus, Ohio, was to-day arraigned before
Justice Brown, of the Superior Court, charged with
having caused a destructive fire by leaving his
campfire unattended. The eminent humorist
and author was evidently unaware of the seriousness
of his offense for he positively refused to engage
an attorney to defend him. When called upon
to plead he began to explain that while he confessed
to lighting the fire, and leaving it unattended,
he wished the Judge to realize that it was the act
of God in sending the wind that spread the flames
that caused the destructive fire which ensued.
The Judge agreed with him, and then grimly said
it was a similar act of God which impelled him to
levy a fine of $500.00 and one month in jail for leaving
his campfire subject to the influence of the wind.
The humorist began to smile “on the left,”
and expressed an earnest desire to argue the matter
out with the Judge, but with a curt “Next Case!”
Mark was dismissed in charge of an officer and
retired “smiling a sickly smile,”
and though he did not “curl up on the floor,”
it is evident that the subsequent proceedings
interested him no more.

CHAPTER C

THOMAS STARR KING AT LAKE TAHOE

In 1863 Thomas Starr King, perhaps the most noted
and broadly honored divine ever known on the Pacific
Coast, visited Lake Tahoe, and on his return to San
Francisco preached a sermon, entitled: “Living
Water from Lake Tahoe.” Its descriptions
are so felicitous that I am gratified to be able to
quote them from Dr. King’s volume of Sermons
Christianity and Humanity, with the kind permission
of the publishers, Houghton, Mifflin Company, Boston,
Mass.

LIVING WATER FROM LAKE TAHOE

When one is climbing from the west,
by the smooth and excellent road, the last slope
of the Sierra ridge, he expects, from the summit
of the pass, which is more than seven thousand
feet above the sea, higher than the famous pass of
the Splugen, or the little St. Bernard, to look
off and down upon an immense expanse. He
expects, or, if he had not learned beforehand,
he would anticipate with eagerness, that he should
be able to see mountain summits beneath him, and
beyond these, valleys and ridges alternating till
the hills subside into the eastern plains.
How different the facts that await the eye from
the western summit, and what a surprise! We find,
on gaining what seems to be the ridge, that the
Sierra range for more than a hundred miles has
a double line of jagged pinnacles, twelve or fifteen
miles apart, with a trench or trough between,
along a portion of the way, that is nearly fifteen
hundred feet deep if we measure from the pass which
the stages traverse, which is nearly three thousand
feet deep if the plummet is dropped from the highest
points of the snowy spires. Down into

Page 226

this trench we look, and opposite upon the eastern
wall and crests, as we ride out to the eastern
edge of the western summit. In a stretch
of forty miles the chasm of it bursts into view
at once, half of which is a plain sprinkled with
groves of pine, and the other half an expanse of level
blue that mocks the azure into which its guardian
towers soar. This is Lake Tahoe, an Indian
name which signifies “High Water.”
We descend steadily by the winding mountain-road, more
than three miles to the plain, by which we drive
to the shore of the Lake; but it is truly Tahoe,
“High Water.” For we stand more
than a mile, I believe more than six thousand feet
above the sea, when we have gone down from the
pass to its sparkling beach. It has about
the same altitude as the Lake of Mount Cenis (6280
feet) in Switzerland, and there is only one sheet
of water in Europe that can claim a greater elevation
(Lake Po de Vanasque, 7271 feet). There are
several, however, that surpass it in the great
mountain-chains of the Andes and of Hindustan.
The Andes support a lake at 12,000 feet above the
sea, and one of the slopes of the Himalaya, in Thibet,
encloses and upholds a cup of crystal water 15,600
feet above the level of the Indian Ocean, covering
an area, too, of 250 square miles. I had
supposed, however, that within the immense limits
of the American Republic, or north of us on the continent,
there is no sheet of water that competes with Tahoe
in altitude and interest. But in Mariposa
County of our State there are two lakes, both
small,—­one 8300 feet, and the other 11,000
feet,—­on the Sierra above the line of the
sea.

To a wearied frame and tired mind what
refreshment there is in the neighborhood of this
lake! The air is singularly searching and
strengthening. The noble pines, not obstructed
by underbrush, enrich the slightest breeze with
aroma and music. Grand peaks rise around,
on which the eye can admire the sternness of everlasting
crags and the equal permanence of delicate and
feathery snow. Then there is the sense of seclusion
from the haunts and cares of men, of being upheld
on the immense billow of the Sierra, at an elevation
near the line of perpetual snow, yet finding the
air genial, and the loneliness clothed with the
charm of feeling the sense of the mystery of the
mountain heights, the part of a chain that link
the two polar seas, and of the mystery of the
water poured into the granite bowl, whose rim is
chased with the splendor of perpetual frost, and whose
bounty, flowing into the Truckee stream, finds
no outlet into the ocean, but sinks again into
the land.

Everything is charming in the surroundings
of the mountain Lake; but as soon as one walks
to the beach of it, and surveys its expanse, it
is the color, or rather the colors, spread out before
the eye, which holds it with greatest fascination.
I was able to stay eight days in all, amidst that
calm and cheer, yet the hues of the water seemed

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to become more surprising with each hour.
The Lake, according to recent measurement, is
about twenty-one miles in length, by twelve or thirteen
in breadth. There is no island visible to break
its sweep, which seems to be much larger than the
figures indicate. And the whole of the vast
surface, the boundaries of which are taken in
easily at once by the range of the eye, is a mass
of pure splendor. When the day is calm, there
is a ring of the Lake, extending more than a mile
from shore, which is brilliantly green. Within
this ring the vast center of the expanse is of
a deep, yet soft and singularly tinted blue.
Hues cannot be more sharply contrasted than are
these permanent colors. They do not shade
into each other; they lie as clearly defined as
the course of glowing gems in the wall of the
New Jerusalem. It is precisely as if we were looking
upon an immense floor of lapis lazuli set within
a ring of flaming emerald.

The cause of this contrast is the sudden
change in the depth of the water at a certain
distance from shore. For a mile or so the
basin shelves gradually, and then suddenly plunges
off into unknown depths. The center of the
Lake must be a tremendous pit. A very short
distance from where the water is green and so
transparent that the clean stones can be seen on the
bottom a hundred feet below, the blue water has been
found to be fourteen hundred feet deep; and in
other portions soundings cannot be obtained with
a greater extent of line.

What a savage chasm the lake-bed must
be! Empty the water from it and it is pure
and unrelieved desolation. And the sovereign
loveliness of the water that fills it is its color.
The very savageness of the rent and fissure is
made the condition of the purest charm. The
Lake does not feed a permanent river. We
cannot trace any issue of it to the ocean. It
is not, that we know, a well-spring to supply
any large district with water for ordinary use.
It seems to exist for beauty. And its peculiar
beauty has its root in the peculiar harshness and
wildness of the deeps it hides.

Brethren, this question of color in
nature, broadly studied, leads us quickly to contemplate
and adore the love of God. If God were the
Almighty chiefly,—­if he desired to impress
us most with his omnipotence and infinitude, and
make us bow with dread before him, how easily
the world could have been made more somber, how
easily our senses could have been created to receive
impressions of the bleak vastness of space, how easily
the mountains might have been made to breathe terror
from their cliffs and walls, how easily the general
effect of extended landscapes might have been
monotonous and gloomy! If religion is, as
it has so often been conceived to be, hostile
to the natural good and joy which the heart seeks
instinctively,—­if sadness, if melancholy,
be the soul of its inspiration, and misery for
myriads the burden of its prophecy,—­I
do not believe that the vast deeps of space above

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us would have been tinted with tender azure, hiding
their awfulness; I do not believe that storms
would break away into rainbows, and that the clouds
of sunset would display the whole gamut of sensuous
splendor; I do not believe that the ocean would
wear such joy for the eye over its awful abysses;
I do not believe that the mountains would crown
the complete, the general loveliness of the globe.

The eloquent preacher then continues to draw other
lessons from the Lake, but, unfortunately, our space
is too limited to allow quotation in full. The
following, however, are short excerpts which suggest
the richness of the fuller expression:

The color of the Lake is a word from
this natural Gospel. It covers the chasms
and wounds of the earth with splendor. It is
what the name of the lovely New Hampshire lake,
Winnepesaukee indicates, “The Smile of the
Great Spirit.”

And this color is connected with purity.
The green ring of the Lake is so brilliant, the
blue enclosed by it is so deep and tender, because
there is no foulness in the water. The edge
of the waves along all the beach is clean. The
granite sand, too, often dotted with smooth-washed
jaspers and garnets and opaline quartz, is especially
bright and spotless. In fact, the Lake seems
to be conscious, and to have an instinct against
contamination. Several streams pour their burden
from the mountains into it; but the impurities which
they bring down seem to be thrown back from the
lip of the larger bowl, and form bars of sediment
just before they can reach its sacred hem.
Dip from its white-edged ripples, or from its
calm heart, or from the foam that breaks over its
blue when the wind rouses it to frolic, and you
dip what is fit for a baptismal font,—­you
dip purity itself.

* * *
* *

The purity of nature is the expression
of joy, and it is a revelation to us that the
Creator’s holiness is not repellent and
severe. God tries to win you by his Spirit, which
clothes the world with beauty, to trust him, to
give up your evil that you may find deeper communion
with him, and to recognize the charm of goodness
which alone is harmony with the cheer and the
purity of the outward world.

I must speak of another lesson, connected
with religion, that was suggested to me on the
borders of Lake Tahoe. It is bordered by
groves of noble pines. Two of the days that I
was permitted to enjoy there were Sundays.
On one of them I passed several hours of the afternoon
in listening, alone, to the murmur of the pines,
while the waves were gently beating the shore
with their restlessness. If the beauty and purity
of the Lake were in harmony with the deepest religion
of the Bible, certainly the voice of the pines
was also in chord with it.

* * *
* *

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I read under the pines of Lake Tahoe,
on that Sunday afternoon, some pages from a recent
English work that raises the question of inspiration.
Is the Bible the word of God, or the words of
men? It is neither. It is the word of God
breathed through the words of men, inextricably
intertwined with them as the tone of the wind
with the quality of the tree. We must go
to the Bible as to a grove of evergreens, not asking
for cold, clear truth, but for sacred influence, for
revival to the devout sentiment, for the breath
of the Holy Ghost, not as it wanders in pure space,
but as it sweeps through cedars and pines.

* * *
* *

In my Sunday musing by the shore of
our Lake, I raised the question,—­Who
were looking upon the waters of Tahoe when Jesus
walked by the beach of Gennesareth? Did men look
upon it then? And if so were they above the
savage level, and could they appreciate its beauty?
And before the time of Christ, before the date
of Adam, however far back we may be obliged to
place our ancestor, for what purpose was this luxuriance
of color, this pomp of garniture? How few
human eyes have yet rested upon it in calmness,
to drink in its loveliness! There are spots
near the point of the shore where the hotel stands,
to which not more than a few score intelligent
visitors have yet been introduced. Such a
nook I was taken to by a cultivated friend.
We sailed ten miles on the water to the mouth
of a mountain stream that pours foaming into its green
expanse. We left the boat, followed this stream
by its downward leaps through uninvaded nature
for more than a mile, and found that it flows
from a smaller lake, not more than three miles
in circuit, which lies directly at the base of two
tremendous peaks of the Sierra, white with immense
and perpetual snow-fields. The same ring
of vivid green, the same center of soft deep blue,
was visible in this smaller mountain bowl, and
it is fed by a glorious cataract, supported by those
snow-fields, which pours down in thundering foam, at
one point, in a leap of a hundred feet to die
in that brilliant color, guarded by those cold,
dumb crags.

Never since the creation has a particle
of that water turned a wheel, or fed a fountain
for human thirst, or served any form of mortal
use. Perhaps the eyes of not a hundred intelligent
spirits on the earth have yet looked upon that
scene. Has there been any waste of its wild
and lonely beauty? Has Tahoe been wasted
because so few appreciative souls have studied and
enjoyed it? If not a human glance had yet fallen
upon it, would its charms of color and surroundings
be wasted charms?

* * *
* *

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Where we discern beauty and yet seclusion,
loveliness and yet no human use, we can follow
up the created charm to yet the mind of the Creator,
and think of it as realizing a conception or a
dream by him. He delights in his works. To
the bounds of space their glory is present as
one vision to his eye. And it is our sovereign
privilege that we are called to the possibility
of sympathy with his joy. The universe is the
home of God. He has lined its walls with beauty.
He has invited us into his palace. He offers
to us the glory of sympathy with his mind.
By love of nature, by joy in the communion with
its beauty, by growing insight into the wonders of
color, form, and purpose, we enter into fellowship
with the Creative art. We go into harmony
with God. By dullness of eye and deadness
of heart to natural beauty, we keep away from sympathy
with God, who is the fountain of loveliness as well
as the fountain of love. But the inmost harmony
with the Infinite we find only through love, and
the reception of his love. Then we are prepared
to see the world aright, to find the deepest joy
in its pure beauty, and to wait for the hour of
translation to the glories of the interior and deeper
world.

CHAPTER D

JOSEPH LECONTE AT LAKE TAHOE

Joseph LeConte, from whom LeConte Lake is named, the
best-beloved professor of the University of California,
and its most noted geologist, in the year 1870 started
out with a group of students of his geology classes,
and made a series of Ramblings in the High Sierras.
These were privately printed in 1875, and from a copy
given to me many years ago by the distinguished author,
I make the following extracts on Lake Tahoe:

August 20, (1870). I am
cook to-day. I therefore got up at daybreak
and prepared breakfast while the rest enjoyed their
morning snooze. After breakfast we hired a sail-boat,
partly to fish, but mainly to enjoy a sail on this
beautiful Lake.

Oh! the exquisite beauty of this Lake—­its
clear waters, emerald-green, and the deepest ultramarine
blue; its pure shores, rocky or cleanest gravel,
so clean that the chafing of the waves does not
stain in the least the bright clearness of the
waters; the high granite mountains, with serried peaks,
which stand close around its very shore to guard
its crystal purity,—­this Lake, not
among, but on, the mountains, lifted
six thousand feet towards the deep-blue overarching
sky, whose image it reflects! We tried to fish
for trout, but partly because the speed of the
sail-boat could not be controlled, and partly
because we enjoyed the scene far more than the
fishing, we were unsuccessful, and soon gave it
up. We sailed some six or eight miles, and landed
in a beautiful cove on the Nevada side. Shall
we go in swimming? Newspapers in San Francisco
say there is something peculiar in the waters

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of this high mountain Lake. It is so light, they
say, that logs of timber sink immediately, and
bodies of drowned animals never rise; that it
is impossible to swim in it; that, essaying to
do so, many good swimmers have been drowned.
These facts are well attested by newspaper scientists,
and therefore not doubted by newspaper readers.
Since leaving Oakland, I have been often asked
by the young men the scientific explanation of
so singular a fact. I have uniformly answered,
“We will try scientific experiments when we
arrive there.” That time had come.
“Now then, boys,” I cried, “for
the scientific experiment I promised you!” I
immediately plunged in head-foremost and struck
out boldly. I then threw myself on my back,
and lay on the surface with ray limbs extended
and motionless for ten minutes, breathing quietly
the while. All the good swimmers quickly followed.
It is as easy to swim and float in this as in
any other water. Lightness from diminished
atmospheric pressure? Nonsense! In an
almost incompressible liquid like water, the diminished
density produced by diminished pressure would be
more than counterbalanced by increased density
produced by cold.

After our swim, we again launched our
boat, and sailed out into the very middle of the
Lake. The wind had become very high, and
the waves quite formidable. We shipped wave after
wave, so that those of us who were sitting in the
bows got drenched. It was very exciting.
The wind became still higher; several of the party
got very sick, and two of them cascaded.
I was not in the least affected, but, on the contrary,
enjoyed the sail very much. About 2 P.M. we concluded
it was time to return, and therefore tacked about
for camp.

The wind was now dead ahead, and blowing
very hard. The boat was a very bad sailer,
and so were we. We beat up against
the wind a long time, and made but little headway.
Finally, having concluded we would save time and
patience by doing so, we ran ashore on the beach
about a mile from camp and towed the boat home.
The owner of the boat told us that he would
not have risked the boat or his life in the middle
of the Lake on such a day. “Where ignorance
is bliss,” etc.

After a hearty supper we gathered around
the fire, and the young men sang in chorus until
bedtime. “Now then, boys,” cried
I, “for a huge camp-fire, for it will be cold
tonight!” We all scattered in the woods,
and every man returned with a log, and soon the
leaping blaze seemed to overtop the pines. We
all lay around, with our feet to the fire, and soon
sank into deep sleep.

August 21. Sunday at Tahoe!
I wish I could spend it in perfect quiet.
But my underclothes must be changed. Cleanliness
is a Sunday duty. Some washing is necessary.
Some of the party went fishing to-day. The
rest of us remained in camp and mended or washed
clothes.

At 12 M. I went out alone, and sat on

Page 232

the shore of the Lake, with the waves breaking
at my feet. How brightly emerald-green the
waters near the shore, and how deeply and purely blue
in the distance! The line of demarcation is
very distinct, showing that the bottom drops off
suddenly. How distinct the mountains and
cliffs all around the Lake; only lightly tinged with
blue on the farther side, though more than twenty miles
distant!

How greatly is one’s sense of
beauty affected by association! Lake Mono
is surrounded by much grander and more varied mountain
scenery than this; its waters are also very clear,
and it has the advantage of several very picturesque
islands; but the dead volcanoes, the wastes of
volcanic sand and ashes covered only by interminable
sagebrush, the bitter, alkaline, dead, slimy waters,
in which nothing but worms live; the insects and
flies which swarm on its surface, and which are thrown
upon its shore in such quantities as to infect the
air,—­all these produce a sense of desolation
and death which is painful; it destroys entirely
the beauty of the lake itself; it unconsciously
mingles with and alloys the pure enjoyment of
the incomparable mountain scenery in its vicinity.
On the contrary, the deep-blue, pure waters of Lake
Tahoe, rivaling in purity and blueness the sky
itself; its clear, bright emerald shore-waters,
breaking snow-white on its clean rock and gravel
shores; the Lake basin, not on a plain, with mountain
scenery in the distance, but counter-sunk in the
mountain’s top itself,—­these produce
a never-ceasing and ever-increasing sense of joy,
which naturally grows into love. There would
seem to be no beauty except as associated with human
life and connected with a sense of fitness for human
happiness. Natural beauty is but the type
of spiritual beauty. Enjoyed a very refreshing
swim in the Lake this afternoon. The water
is much less cold than that of Lake Tenaya or the
Tuolumne River, or even the Nevada River.

The party which went out fishing
returned with a very large
trout. It was delicious.

I observe on the Lake ducks,
gulls, terns, etc., and about it
many sandhill cranes—­the
white species, the clanging cry of
these sounds pleasant to me
by early association.

August 22. Nothing to do
to-day. Would be glad to sail on the Lake
or fish, but too expensive hiring boats. Our funds
are nearly exhausted. Would be glad to start
for home, but one of our party—­Pomroy—­has
gone to Carson City, and we must wait for him.

I went down alone to the Lake, sat down
on the shore and enjoyed the scene. Nothing
to do, my thoughts to-day naturally went to the
dear ones at home. Oh! how I wish they could be
here and enjoy with me this lovely Lake! I
could dream away my life here with those I love.
How delicious a dream! Of all the places
I have yet seen, this is the one I could longest enjoy
and love the most. Reclining thus in the shade,
on the clean white sand, the waves rippling at
my feet, with thoughts of Lake Tahoe and of my
loved ones mingling in my mind, I fell into a
delicious doze. After my doze I returned to camp,
to dinner.

About 5 P.M. took another
and last swim in the Lake.

Page 233

Pomroy, who went to Carson,
returned 7 P.M. After supper,
again singing in chorus, and
then the glorious campfire.

CHAPTER E

JOHN VANCE CHENEY AT LAKE TAHOE

One of America’s poets who long lived in California,
and then, after an honorable and useful sojourn as
Director of one of the important libraries of the
East, returned to spend the remainder of his days—­John
Vance Cheney—­in 1882, made the trip to Lake
Tahoe by stage from Truckee, and, among other fine
pieces of description, wrote the following which appeared
in Lippincott’s for August, 1883:

One more ascent has been made, one more
turn rounded, and behold, from an open elevation,
close upon its shore, Lake Tahoe in all its calm
beauty bursts suddenly upon the sight. Nestled
among the snowy summit-peaks of the Sierra Nevada,
more than six thousand feet above sea-level, it
lies in placid transparency. The surrounding
heights are all the more pleasing to the eye because
of their lingering winter-cover; and as we gaze
upon the Lake, unruffled by the gentlest breeze,
we marvel at the quiet,—­almost supernatural,—­radiancy
of the scene. Lakes in other lands may present
greater beauty of artificial setting,—­beauty
dependent largely upon picturesqueness, where vineyards
and ivied ruins heighten the effect of natural
environment,—­but for nature pure and
simple, for chaste beauty and native grandeur,
one will hesitate before naming the rival of Lake
Tahoe. This singularly impressive sheet of
water, one of the highest in the world, gains
an indescribable but easily-perceived charm by
its remoteness, its high, serene, crystal isolation.
Its lights and shades, its moods and passions,
are changing, rapid, and free as the way of the wind.

A true child of nature, it varies ever,
from hour to hour enchanting with new and strange
fascination. The thousand voices of the lofty
Sierra call to it, and it answers; all the colors
of the rainbow gather upon it, receiving in their turn
affectionate recognition. Man has meddled
with it little more than with the sky; the primeval
spell is upon it, the hush, the solitude of the
old gods. The breath of powers invisible, awful,
rouse it to the sublimity of untamable energy; again,
hush it into deepest slumber. Night and day
it is guarded, seemingly, by wonder-working forces
known to man only through the uncertain medium
of the imagination. The traveler who looks
upon Lake Tahoe for a few hours only learns little
of its rich variety. Like all things wild
and shy, it must be approached slowly and with
patience.

But our sketch must not include more
than the hasty glimpses of a day. The stage
conveyed us directly to the wharf, which we reached
at ten o’clock, having accomplished our fourteen
mile ride up the valley in about two and a half
hours. As we boarded the little steamer awaiting

Page 234

us and looked over its side into the water below,
the immediate shock of surprise cannot be well
described. Every pebble at the bottom showed as
distinctly as if held in the open hand. We
had all seen clear water before, but, as a severe
but unscholarly sufferer once said of his rheumatism,
“never such as these.” The
day being perfect, no breeze stirring, and the
Lake without a ripple, the gravelly bottom continued
visible when we had steamed out to a point where
the water reached a depth of eighty feet.
Two gentlemen on board who had made a leisurely trip
round the world and were now on their way home to
England, remarked that they had seen but one sheet
of water (a lake in Japan) of anything like equal
transparency. It is presumed that they had
not visited Green Lake, Colorado.

Our course lay along the California
shore, toward its southern extremity, the steamer
stopping at several points for exchange of mail.
These stopping places are all summer-resorts, where
the guests, snugly housed at the base of the mountain-range,
divide the time between lounging or rambling under
the shadow of the tall pines and angling for the
famous Tahoe trout in the brightness of the open
Lake. All looked inviting, but we were not
wholly enchanted until, gliding past many a snowy
peak, we suddenly changed course and put into
Emerald Bay. This little bay, or rather lake in
itself, about three miles in length, is the gem
of the Tahoe scenery. Through its narrow
entrance, formed by perpendicular cliffs some
two thousand feet high, we moved on toward an island
of rock and a succession of flashing waterfalls beyond.

* * *
* *

For a time the dazzling mountain-crests
and glistening gorges absorbed attention.
So high, white, silent! We longed to be upon
the loftiest one, from the top of which can be seen
thirteen charming little mountain-lakes, midair
jewels, varying in feature according to the situation.
Two of these lakes, widely dissimilar in character,
are but two miles distant from Tallac House, a
comfortable resort at the base of the noble peak
from which it takes its name.

But not even the crystal summit ridges
delighted us as did the changing waters in the
path of the steamer. Following immediately
upon the transparency preserved to a depth of some
eighty feet, a blur passed over the surface.
This changed by imperceptible degrees to a light
green. The green, again, speedily deepened,
shading into a light blue; and finally, in deepest
water (where the Lake is all but fathomless), the
color becomes so densely blue that we could not
believe our eyes. Indigo itself was outdone.
Description fails; the blue deep of Tahoe must
be seen to be appreciated.

* * *
* *

Page 235

The ride from Glenwood back to Tahoe
City was not so calm. The Lake was considerably
agitated; less so, however, than on the following
day, when, as we learned afterward, our little steamer
lost its rudder. Owing to the gorges in the mountains
upon either side, through which winds rush unexpectedly,
Tahoe has her dangers. She is a wild, wayward
child, but thoroughly lovable throughout all her
frowns as well as smiles, equally captivating
in her moments of unconquerable willfulness as in
her seasons of perfect submission. Reaching
Tahoe City at four o’clock, we found the
stage standing in readiness, and, with a last,
hasty look at the Lake, we were soon on our way by
the banks of the Truckee, back to town.

CHAPTER F

THE RESORTS OF LAKE TAHOE

In the body of this book I have given full account
of some of the resorts of the Tahoe region, including
Deer Park Springs, Tahoe Tavern, Fallen Leaf Lodge,
Cathedral Park, Glen Alpine Springs, Al-Tahoe, Lakeside,
Glenbrook and Carnelian Bay.

But these are by no means all the resorts of the Bay,
and each year sees additions and changes. Hence
I have deemed it well briefly to describe those resorts
that are in operation at the time this volume is issued.

It should be remembered that each resort issues its
own descriptive folder, copies of which may be obtained
from the ticket offices of the Southern Pacific Railway,
the Lake Tahoe Railway and Transportation Company,
or the Peck-Judah Information Bureau, as well as from
its own office. All the resorts not already described
in their respective chapters are reached by steamer
on its circuit around the Lake, as follows:

HOMEWOOD

The first place for the steamer after leaving the
Tavern is Homewood, a comparatively new resort, but
already popular and successful, conducted by Mr. and
Mrs. A.W. Jost. This is six miles from Tahoe
City. The hotel was built in 1913 and has hot
and cold water piped to all rooms.

In addition there are cottages of two and three rooms,
which, together with single and double tents, provide
for every taste and purse. The tents are protected
by flies, have solid boarded floors, are well carpeted,
and afford the fullest opportunity for out-door sleeping.
Homewood possesses a gently sloping and perfectly safe
bathing beach for adults and children. It also
boasts a unique feature in an open-air dancing platform,
with old-fashioned music. It owns its power-boat
for excursions on the Lake, and its fleet of row-and
fishing-boats. A campfire is lighted nightly during
the season, and song and story cheer the merry hours
along.

For circulars address A.W. Jost, Homewood, Lake
Tahoe, Calif.

MCKINNEY’S

Page 236

Three and a half to four miles beyond Homewood is
McKinney’s. This is one of the oldest and
best-established resorts on the Lake, having been
founded and long conducted by that pioneer of Lake
Tahoe, J.W. McKinney, as fully related elsewhere.
It is now under the management of Murphy Brothers
and Morgan, and is essentially a place that is popular
with the crowd. The resort was built, as are all
the older places, to meet ever-increasing needs, the
main hotel being supplemented by numerous cottages
and tents. McKinney’s has a fine new dancing-hall,
dark-room for amateur photographers, iron and magnesia
springs, fleet of fishing- and motor-boats, free fishing-tackle,
etc., and during the season its accommodation
for two hundred guests is more than taxed to the limit.

MOANA VILLA

The next steamer stopping-place, about two hundred
yards from McKinney’s is Moana Villa, the comfortable,
unpretentious and homelike resort conducted by Mr.
and Mrs. R. Colwell, who are also the owners of Rubicon
Springs, reached by daily stage during the summer season,
nine miles from McKinney’s.

Owning its own ranch in the mountains where milk,
cream, butter, eggs, poultry and game are plentiful,
the table at Moana Villa is provided with all the
substantials and luxuries, cooked and served in home
style.

One great advantage is offered to guests at Moana
Villa, viz.: they may divide their time
between it and Rubicon Springs, as both are under
the same ownership and management.

The new Scenic Automobile Boulevard passes through
the 700 acres of delightful surroundings which belong
to the place. The best fishing grounds on Lake
Tahoe are close by and numerous smaller mountain lakes
and streams afford excellent fly fishing. Deer,
bear, grouse, quail, ducks, geese and other game abound
in the locality.

Hunting, fishing, bathing, boating, dancing, launch
trips, beautiful walks and drives and numerous games
give ample opportunity for amusement and recreation.
The assembly hall and office is of logs. Sleeping
accommodations in cottages and tents or out of doors
if desired. Water is piped from a clear mountain
spring, and an equipment of up-to-date sanitary plumbing,
bath and toilet appliances has been lately installed.

For circular address R. Colwell, Moana Villa, Lake
Tahoe, Calif.

* * * *
*

POMIN’S

A little beyond Moana Villa is Pomin’s, the
latest acquisition to the resorts of the Lake, having
been opened in 1914. The hotel is an attractive,
well-equipped, up-to-date structure, located on a knoll
150 feet from the Lake, and is surrounded by pines.
Enclosed verandas, open fires in lobby and dining-rooms,
electric lights, hot and cold water in all the rooms,
tents and cottages are some of the conveniences and
luxuries.

Page 237

There is an attractive club-house on the Lake Shore.
For circular address Frank J. Pomin, Pomin’s,
Lake Tahoe, Calif.

Emerald Bay Camp and Al-Tahoe have both been described
in their respective chapters.

* * * *
*

TALLAC

As explained in Chapter XVIII, Tallac House was built
by E.J. (Lucky) Baldwin. For many years it was
the principal hotel on the Lake, but what was a fine
and superior hotel 25 years ago did not satisfy the
demands of modern patrons. Hence some years ago
Mr. Baldwin planned to erect a new hotel near the
site of the old one. Unfortunately the work was
not much more than begun when he died and nothing has
been done to it since.

The hotel is now under the management of a San Francisco
firm.

* * * *
*

PINE FOREST INN

Built, as its name implies, in a pine grove of trees,
this is one of the older resorts of the Lake.
It is unique in that it keeps open throughout the
year. Like the rest of the resorts of its class
it has hotel and dining-room with cottages and tents.
Under its new management a new casino has been built,
and every room and cottage, etc., equipped with
electric lights. Especial attention is given to
camping-, fishing-, and hunting-parties. It is
on the State Highway between Placerville and Carson
City, Nevada, and therefore makes all provision for
automobilists.

BIJOU INN

This is another well-known Inn and Camp at the southeastern
end of the Lake. It is on the Lake Shore Drive
near to the State Highway and close to Freel’s
and the other mountain peaks of this group. The
beach in front of Bijou is of clean white sand, with
a gentle slope, offering excellent facilities for
bathing.

For circular address W.F. Conolley, Bijou, Lake
Tahoe, Calif.

* * * *
*

Lakeside Park and Glenwood have each been described
in their respective chapters.

* * * *
*

BROCKWAYS

This old-established and popular hot-springs resort
is on the north end of the Lake, beautifully situated
on State-Line Point between Crystal and Agate Bays.
The hot springs and mineral swimming-pool here have
a tested quality which thousands of guests can testify
to, and they are annually patronized by a large number.
The resort and springs are under the management of
the owner.

Page 238

For circular, address F.B. Alverson, Brockways,
Lake Tahoe, Calif.

* * * *
*

TAHOE VISTA

On the shores of Agate Bay a new resort was started
two years ago, known as Tahoe Vista. It has a
modern hotel, equipped for convenience and comfort.

Bathing, boating and fishing in Agate Bay at Tahoe
Vista is at its best. The white sanded beach
is broad and is safe to the smallest child, the bay
being shallow for a distance of five hundred feet
from its edge and affording a temperature to the water
that is more pleasant than to be found at any other
part of the Lake.

The fame of Lake Tahoe’s trout fishing is world
renowned, and in Agate Bay that sport is superior.
One of the public fish hatcheries is located near
Tahoe Vista, insuring a constant supply of the most
favored varieties of game fish. Twenty-five thousand
Eastern brook trout were recently placed in Griff
Creek, a lively little stream that dances through
the glens of Tahoe Vista.

To those who wish to own their own homes on the Lake
Tahoe Vista affords excellent opportunities in that
lots are for sale at moderate rates. A direct
automobile road connects with Truckee, and also with
Tahoe Tavern.

For circular address Manager Hotel, Tahoe Vista, Calif.

* * * *
*

Carnelian Bay and its attractions are fully described
in its own chapter.

* * * *
*

TAHOE CITY

This is the starting and the ending point of the steamer
trip around the Lake. It is a historic place,
the first town founded on Lake Tahoe, and destined
ultimately to come into large importance. There
is a small hotel, together with housekeeping cottages,
and free camping facilities.

Tahoe City
Country Club
and S.F. Waterworks
TAHOE, LAKE, AND TRUCKEE RIVER
AUTOMOBILE ROUTE, WISHBONE
AS A SUMMER RESIDENCE
BIRDS AND ANIMALS OF
Boating at
Boulevard
BY STEAMER AROUND
CAMPING OUT TRIPS
CHAPARRAL OF T. REGION
CHENEY, J.V., AT
Climate of
Colors of
Depth of
Discovery of
Drowned do not rise at
Feeders of
FISHING AT
FLOWERS OF
FREMONT AND THE DISCOVERY OF
GEOLOGY OF
GLACIAL HISTORY OF
How FORMED
HUNTING AT
INDIANS OF
INDIAN LEGENDS OF
KING, THOS. STARR, AT
LECONTE, JOSEPH, AT
LECONTE’S PHYSICAL STUDIES
OF
Levels, Variations of

Page 242

MARK TWAIN AT
Mountains of
Names
NATIONAL FOREST
Never freezes
Origin of
Peculiarities of
Physical Culture at
PUBLIC USE OF WATERS OF
RAIL TO
Railway and Transp. Co.
Restfulness of
Rivers of
Significance of name
Size of
Swimming in
Temperature of
Transparency of
Trees of
TRUCKEE RIVER AND
Variations of Level
VARIOUS NAMES OF
WHY “LAKE OF THE SKY”
WINTER AT
TAVERN
TOWNS, HISTORIC
Vista
Tallac
House
Mt.
Tevis, W.S.
Thompson Peak
Snow Shoe
Tinker Knob
Tlamath Lake (see Klamat)
Tobogganing
Todd’s Valley
Towle
TOWNS, HISTORIC TAHOE
TRAIL TRIPS IN T. REGION
Hell Hole
Rubicon River
TREES OF T. REGION
Trolling
Trout, Varieties of
Truckee (Indian)
(Town)
Canyon Glacier
Little River
Twain, Mark
Twelve Mile Creek